


There's No Scandal So Great

by find_nowhere



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Feels, Gen, Happy Ending, Plot, Too Much Plot?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-07-19 07:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 74,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19970335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/find_nowhere/pseuds/find_nowhere
Summary: **3x03 spoilers and then canon divergence - proceed with some caution.**Regarding that unfortunate accident at the St. James's prizefight...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to avoid any potential 3x03 spoilers, do not carry on. This picks up immediately after the end sequence. I'm changing the "incident" a bit and then we're going to scoot on over to an alternate timeline in which things are not a complete hellstorm of misery and suffering.

"I seem to have lost Charlotte," Lady Isabella said, gently grabbing Lucy by the elbow as she passed. She'd been looking for her for several minutes and failed to find her companion. Charlotte had wandered away several times throughout the event but kept returning to her side. This time she'd been gone for quite a while and hadn't been present for the end of the fight. Charlotte had certainly just gotten caught up in conversation with someone else in the crowd and couldn't make her way back - that was what she kept telling herself. This was the largest party that had been in the St. James's house in years, and the courtesan seemed to know more members of the nobility than Isabella herself - Isabella pushed the obvious reason for this from her mind. 

Lucy couldn't hear at all over the raucous that had engulfed the room after Jack won the prizefight. She was trying to make her way back to Mr. Croft when she was intercepted by the lady of the house. She looked at the taller woman blankly, knowing she'd said something to her, but not knowing what.

"Charlotte," Isabella said louder as she scanned the room again. "Have you seen Charlotte? I've lost your sister in this sea of people."

"I'm sure she'll turn up," she smiled and patted the woman on her arm before moving on. Lady Isabella seemed overly dismayed over Charlotte's absence. When Lucy thought about it, she hadn't seen Charlotte in a while either. She'd assumed she was with Isabella. It was a bit odd, but nothing to cause concern. Charlotte could take care of herself after all.

~~~

Hal Pincher gruffly grabbed Emily Lacey as she moved toward him. She'd just escaped the grasp of her keeper, only to the grabbed by Hal. He turned her around and pulled her through the crowd toward the front entrance, followed closely by Isaac. Both kept their eyes forward and Isaac's lips were pressed firmly together in a tight line.

"I told you we should go home. I'm glad you saw reason," Emily said haughtily, pleased with herself. When neither of the Pinchers responded to her she asked, "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Hal answered. Isaac remained silent.

Her moment of believing Hal had listened to her passed quickly. Something was wrong. She asked again, more firmly, "What's happened?" 

"Shut up," he cut her off as they exited out into the night. No one would miss them. They shouldn't have been there in the first place.

~~~

"We must get help," Kate kept repeating to Mrs. Quigley. "We must get help. We can't just leave her. She-she..." The girl began to stammer.

"Keep your voice down, child. There's nothing we can do." Lydia's pale face had grown paler and the hood of her cloak had shifted her wig back even farther, making her look more and more like a madwoman. Like the Pinchers, she was making her way to the front entrance fleeing from the scene in the stairway of the back foyer as fast as she could. She looked as if she may faint at any moment, but she kept her grip on the girl's wrist and moved with determination.

"We have to tell someone! We can't-we...I..." Only nonsense came out of Kate's mouth. She saw Lady Isabella moving fluidly through the crowd, looking pensively from guest to guest, looking for Charlotte. Kate knew exactly where Charlotte was and began gravitating toward the woman in her elegant green dress, but she felt Mrs. Quigley pull her back like a dog on a short leash. She tried reaching out to the woman with her free hand, to tell her that something horrible had happened, but throngs of people washed over the two cloaked women. She lost Isabella amid the crowd and found herself at the door. She looked at one of the doormen and said, "Please, help."

He didn't know what she meant. There was no context and he ignored the comment as the two women, who both looked rather crazed, made their exit. Lydia didn't notice Harcourt Fitzwilliam lurking in the shadows of the nearest alley. He didn't notice her either and was waiting to make his grand entrance.

~~~

Nancy observed the party guests. Most of their backs were still to them and they remained focused on the boxing ring. "Fight's over. We need to get on before someone sees you."

"I am aware, Nance." She straightened Jonas' jacket. The man was still in a huff and Margaret was trying to get him to return to the festivities to enjoy himself. She hadn't intended to spoil his night, just the deal.

He refused, "Let me give my regards to Lady Fitzwilliam and we can both be on our way. This has left a sour taste in my mouth"

Nancy nodded toward Lady Isabella, who had broken through the thickest part of the crowd and emerged near them. She observed, "Speaking of her ladyship, it looks as if she's lost her pet."

Jonas moved toward her and Margaret stayed hidden in the alcove behind Nancy. Nancy watched as Isabella greeted Jonas with all of her typical courtesy. She smiled politely, and her smile immediately faded when he turned away. She continued her search for Charlotte who had been on her arm moments before and was now nowhere to be found. Nancy gave the room a quick sweep and didn't see Charlotte anywhere either. Jonas rejoined them and Nancy began to lead the way out, wondering briefly why Charlotte had abandoned Lady Fitz at this event of their making. Margaret pulled her hat down low on her face as they passed a pair of constables on the street that were making their way to the house likely to investigate the commotion that could be heard easily from outside. 

The noise in the house remained at a roar inside as winnings were collected, toasts were made, and more drinks were had. Most of the guests were still shoulder-to-shoulder, crowding the ring, Mr. North, and Jack, others had begun mingling and exchanging their pleasantries loudly over the festivities. A chant had begun for Jack and some drunk noblemen had hoisted him onto their shoulders, paying no mind to their fine garments and wigs. 

~~~

Lady Isabella continued with her pleasant acknowledgments of everyone that approached her, but she was making her way to each of the nooks of her home, looking for her companion. Everything was fine when Charlotte was there. She didn't so much mind the pretenses with her scandalous companion next to her. Without her though the liveliness grew dull very quickly and turned into just another gala like all of the ones before. People kept stopping her, thanking her for the entertainment, the illicit boxing match, for the hors d'oeuvres, the drinks. Their appreciation was droning.

The more time she spent looking for Charlotte the more an annoying, gnawing voice in the back of her mind kept insisting her brother had done something, drawn her away somehow. He knew it would leave Isabella vulnerable. She reasoned with herself that her brother was not foolish enough to show up here. She hadn't seen him and he surely would've reared his ugly head by now. He would've attempted to foil the whole event somehow if that were going to be his move, wouldn't he? He wouldn't just lure Charlotte away. So where had she gone? She hadn't seen the Pinchers or Lydia in quite some time either, so perhaps they were the culprits, she thought between exhausting smiles at more guests. She felt somehow naked without Charlotte - her final secret, though she was - she gave her strength and protected her from the side-eyed glances of those in her own circle. Taking a drink from one of the serving trays of a passing attendant, she sighed and sipped from the glass. Perhaps she should remain in one place and Charlotte would find her.

"Lady Fitz," Lucy joined her at the outskirts of the joviality. "You've still not found Charlotte?"

She shook her head and asked, "Did you see her?"

"No, I still haven't. Not since earlier." She also took a drink from a passing attendant and looked at all of the people passing by. "I'll help you find her."

She nodded, appreciatively. Lucy now seemed to share some of Isabella's concern, which was a relief. She felt like she wasn't being completely unreasonable. The two went together, farther from the bulk of the gathering and Isabella confessed, "I feel a bit silly worrying like this."

"Charlotte enjoys parties and gambling. She wouldn't disappear unless..." Lucy's voice trailed off. Charlotte wouldn't go off with Isaac Pincher, not here, not now. 

"Unless what?" Isabella pried.

"It was nothing. Charlotte isn't that uncouth," she responded.

The quiet as they approached the back foyer was a welcome relief from the noise. Isabella called out, hopelessly, "Charlotte?"

"Would she have gone upstairs for anything?" Lucy asked her.

She shrugged and then shook her head. She somewhat hated that her confidence was all hinged upon the presence of this other woman, but she pushed that aside just as she pushed aside that she was an infamous harlot. Charlotte had confidence enough for them both. A noise interrupted her thoughts - a pained whimper.

Both women paused, and Lucy asked, "What was that?"

Lady Isabella didn't answer and started moving again toward the sound quickly, feeling her stomach sink. Lucy followed suit, rounding the corner toward the stairs. Isabella stopped abruptly and Lucy nearly ran into her. The glass the woman carried tumbled from her hands and shattered on the floor at her feet.

At first, it looked like little more than a crumpled pile of fabric laying in front of them. Isabella immediately recognized the fabric though - the bright magenta and the teal trim. The fabric shuttered and let out another faint groan.

"Charlotte..." she muttered, her voice barely even a whisper.

"Oh, God," Lucy gasped.

The figure twitched in response to them then all of Isabella's facades fell away at once and she collapsed next to the heap on the floor that was not a pile of fabric, but was Charlotte Wells.

"Get help!" She screamed toward Lucy. Her scream was swallowed quickly by the noise. It was largely shrugged off by the guests, unnoticed. People assumed it to be another over-drunk guest or someone upset about their lost bet - if they'd heard anything at all.

~~~

Nancy paused and looked back toward the house. "Did you hear that?"

"Was that a scream?" Margaret asked her. She'd barely heard it. "Probably a drunkard is all."

"You two go on," Nancy responded and motioned them onward. "The constables. I'll go check."

Margaret nodded and continued with Jonas as Nancy remained in the street, listening. She had an uncomfortable feeling and the sound she heard only worsened it. It had sounded like someone yelling for help from inside. She started back toward the entrance to Lady Fitz's house. She walked quickly, weaving between the constables as she reentered.

"A concerned citizen alerted us to a possible disturbance here," one of them was saying to the doorman.

She paid them no mind and went on toward the far end of the house where it sounded like the shout had come from when she was outside.

"We need a doctor! Is there a doctor here?" she heard Lucy yelling from somewhere, but she didn't see her.

"Lucy!" Nancy called out as people began to scatter and move erratically in confusion.

Lucy called out, "Is there not a god damn doctor here?!"

Nancy shoved her way through the people to the girl. Lucy didn't even notice her until she latched onto her shoulders and shook her, "Lucy, what's happened?"

Lucy's face was red and streaked with tears. "It's Charlotte. She's hurt. She's fallen down the stairs or - I don't know! She needs a doctor!"

"Where is she?!" Nancy demanded.

Lucy answered frantically, "Back foyer. Lady Fitz is with her. Half of London is fucking here. There must be a doctor."

Trying her best to remain calm, Nancy gave her instructions, "There are constables at the door. Go to them for help."

Several voices around them were asking what was going on. Lucy nodded and Nancy released her grip on her then pushed her toward the door. People had begun congregating in the direction of the commotion. She took a deep breath and then broke out in a run, shouting for people to get out of her way. If they didn't move she shoved past them without apology. She bowled someone completely over and only slowed down to keep her own footing and not trip. There was a crash of breaking glass behind her. She made it to the foyer and saw Lady Isabella first. She sat on the floor, her huge green dress billowing out around her. She had Charlotte partially in her lap and hovered over her.

"Your ladyship...Charlotte..." Nancy approached and the extent of the situation unfolded before her. She was going to ask if everything was alright, but the remaining words lodged in her throat. It was not alright. Nothing was alright. She glanced up toward the top of the stairs above, the balcony, the banister, and back down. There was some blood, not a lot. It had been smeared around by Isabella's dress. It was a miracle Charlotte hadn't completely cracked her skull open falling from that height. 

Lady Isabella looked up, her makeup and wig a complete mess. She was normally so soft-spoken so hearing her shout was jarring, "Lucy went for a doctor! Where is the doctor?!"

"The doctor's coming," Nancy tried to be reassuring, but her voice cracked. She knelt down next to them in an attempt to look Charlotte over. She was conscious, but only barely, and very pale. Her legs were most certainly broken. She could see the outlines of their twisted shapes under her dress, and one of her feet pointed in an unnatural direction. How long had she been here like this? She looked up again at the balcony above them and then grasped one of Charlotte's hands and said, "Lucy is bringing the doctor."

Isabella's tone reverted back to normal and she said quietly to Charlotte, "Did you hear that? Nancy is here now and the doctor is on the way. Everything will be alright."

~~~

Questions began buzzing through the air out in the main room. People asking what happened, what was wrong, wanting to help. The fact that something had happened circulated through the crowd like the plague, but no one seemed to know what exactly happened. Mr. North quickly shouldered his way through the confusion toward Lucy who he only spotted because of her yellow dress. She was with two constables who looked concerned but were nodding. Before he got to her one of them hurried out through the front door. The other started with Lucy toward the back of the house.

Mr. North joined them and plowed through the thickening crowd, followed by Lucy and the constable in his wake. He cut a path for them, not sure what exactly was going on. Lucy was still asking for a doctor among the guests, and other people had been calling out for a doctor as well.

Harcourt entered the house, wondering why one of the constables left in such a rush, and his brow furrowed. He was who had gotten the constables in the first place, and he was somewhat displeased one had left. Apparently, there was some excitement happening that was not his doing and his constables were proving to not be the hindrance he'd intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dudes, I think JBF might be the lady equivalent of Sean Bean, but I thought she'd make it to the end of the season. Also, holy smokes! There were an awful lot of characters in one place at the end of that episode that I needed to account for to execute my grand plans.


	2. Chapter 2

Isabella cradled Charlotte's head in her lap, stroking her hair from her face with a remarkably steady hand. Nancy kept glancing down at her shattered legs and then away. Her skin was split near her right temple and that was the source of some of the blood. It was clotting now and bruising. Charlotte looked back and forth at each of them, breathing raggedly, and her eyes seeming unable to focus. One of her pupils was much more dilated than the other. She squeezed Nancy's hand in short, jerking movements. She gasped out helplessly, "Don't...leave."

"We're not leaving," Isabella whispered as calmly as she could muster. "Stop trying to talk. It's alright."

"I'm...sorry..." she muttered, looking at the woman, who shushed her again.

"Stubborn girl," Nancy commented. "Listen to the lady."

Charlotte swallowed forcefully and a single tear dripped down her cheek. Lady Isabella carefully wiped it away with her thumb, and she quieted. Isabella had managed to stop crying and had regained much of her normal composure over the last few minutes.

They heard Mr. North bellow from nearby, "Let the doctor through! Get out of his way!"

He came tearing into the foyer first, followed by Lucy, the constable, and then there was another man in tow - a doctor they'd found among the guests. Mr. North's jaw dropped. His brain had gone over every possible scenario before he entered in an attempt to prepare himself for whatever awful thing had Lucy screaming for a doctor, but he wasn't prepared for this. Lucy moved quickly past him and went to her sister. 

"Lucy's here now, and your Pa," Isabella told Charlotte.

"What happened?" asked the constable as the doctor also knelt down to look at the damage.

"Looks like she fell from the balcony," Nancy answered.

"Let's get her to the hospital!" Mr. North demanded.

"No!" Isabella shouted back at him suddenly, startling them all. "She may have hurt her back."

"Lady Fitz is right," the doctor agreed. "We can't move her yet. Another doctor is being fetched and then we'll get her up off of the floor. Is there a room we can move her to nearby?"

She nodded, "Yes, of course." Then she looked to the constable, "Please, get everyone out of my house that does not need to be here." 

"Yes, your ladyship." As he said this a few guests wandered in to investigate whatever had occurred. One of the women shrieked and the constable ushered them out. 

Mr. North then joined those gathered around Charlotte. He seemed in shock. He had seen a lot of things, handled a lot of things, but nothing the likes of seeing his daughter this glaringly broken. A million thoughts were racing through his mind and they kept circling back to the "how." Charlotte wouldn't jump and she wasn't so foolish as to fall over. Or had she? How much did she drink? He had completely lost track of her early in the evening. Even then...could someone have pushed her? The damned Pinchers had shown up. The god damned Pinchers. He put his hand on her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. He sighed, worriedly, and vowed to himself to kill whoever did this to her. 

"Pa," she said quietly as if responding to his thoughts. Lady Isabella urged her to be quiet again.

The doctor made a few pensive noises and then looked under her dress. Some more guests had ventured into the stairway and were peering at the scene, trying to see. Mr. North got up and moved toward them, trying to block their view as he did so. Charlotte wouldn't want anyone to see her like this. He looked out into the main room. The crowd had thinned, but not much. People were leaving very slowly, even with the constable shouting for them to clear out. He heard people whispering that someone had fallen down the stairs. Someone thought it was Lady Fitz. 

The second constable arrived with another doctor as well as a stretcher. Mr. North cleared a path for them through the rubberneckers and beckoned them down the foyer. The doctors greeted one another and the first doctor whispered to the second. Mr. North didn't like this. He could tell that Lady Isabella didn't either. She watched them closely while tending to Charlotte. Her ladyship's eyes moved from the doctors to look at someone behind Mr. North. He assumed it to be another wayward guest. The color drained from the woman's face and she glared. He turned to see who it was.

"Get out of my house," she said between her teeth.

Mr. North looked at the nobleman and went to turn him away, but before he could do so, the constable greeted him, "Marquess."

Harcourt nodded and smirked then moved closer to see what had happened for himself. He'd heard some wild things from guests on his way through the house.

"Get him out before I kill him in front of the law and I'm hanged for murder," Lady Fitz said, calmly, but with unmistakable and terrifying rage.

Nancy and Lucy both exchanged looks of surprise, in response.

"Who is this?" Mr. North asked her.

"My brother and I do not want him here."

"Dear sister," he said to her and attempted to pass by Mr. North, who blocked his path. "You are obviously in need. Why turn me away?"

"The lady wants you to leave," Mr. North said to him. 

"Your ladyship," one of the constables began. "It was Lord Fitzwilliam that sent us to your house tonight. Had he not done so, we-"

She cut him off, "Remind me to thank him later."

Mr. North continued to stand in Harcourt's way and he stopped attempting to pass the much larger man. He peeked around him though and taunted, "Izzy, what have you done to your whore?"

"Enough!" Grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, Mr. North shoved him backward. He continued to smirk the entire time and stared maliciously at Isabella. "See this man to the door," he said to the constable. "Now! Ensure he doesn't re-enter."

"Thank you, Mr. North," Lady Isabella said, calm again.

Charlotte let out an agonized groan. Possibly because the doctors were preparing to move her onto the stretcher or possibly because the Marquess of Blayne had shown up, maybe both. Nancy and Lucy had gotten to their feet and moved back out of the way. Isabella whispered encouragement to Charlotte and on the count of three, the doctors shifted her to the stretcher. She screamed, but only for a moment because she quickly lost consciousness. Lady Isabella covered her face and began to cry without warning. She had been holding herself together by a thread that snapped at that moment. 

"Well, there is good news," said one of the doctors quite merrily - the one that had been at the event, who had obviously had a number of drinks. "If she felt that, it's unlikely to be a spinal injury." He cleared his throat upon noticing all of the shocked faces and then they prepared to lift the stretcher.

The other doctor said, "Once we get her into a bed we can set her legs and tend to the bump on her head. We'll know more then."

Lucy and Nancy helped Lady Fitz to her feet, and Nancy said, "Lead the way, your ladyship."

"Yes, yes...the guest quarters," she nodded, wiping her eyes. She straightened her blood-streaked dress and then motioned for the doctors to follow her. Mr. North joined her, getting people out of their way.

"Tell Ma," Lucy whispered to Nancy as they brought up the rear. "She needs to know."

Nancy nodded, knowing Margaret would drop everything and return to St. James's the moment she did so. That was a bridge she'd cross when she came to it. She left the group and started for the door. The crowd had thinned even more, but there were still a lot of stragglers in the house, all of them trying to see what great drama had taken place. The constables were doing their best to get them all moving. The doormen were struggling to stop people from coming back inside that they had managed to get out. There was already a reporter outside as well, and Nancy resisted the urge to kick him in his ass and send him packing.

The guest quarters were not far. Mr. North, Lucy, and Lady Isabella huddled together anxiously as the doctors moved Charlotte to the bed. One handled her shoulders and the other very carefully dealt with the shifting of her legs. The second doctor turned to the group and said, "I assure you all that you do not want to be present for this."

None of them budged or even responded until Lady Isabella acquiesced, "If you require anything I'll be just outside."

Almost as soon as the door was closed behind them, Harriet ran up and asked, "Was that Charlotte?! I heard Lady Fitz fell down the stairs!"

Lady Isabella looked at the woman for a few seconds before she broke down again. Lucy grabbed onto her before she collapsed. Mr. North led Harriet down the hallway where they were joined by Elizabeth and Fredo. He said, "Charlotte fell from the balcony somehow. I am hoping Charlotte can tell us what happened when she wakes up."

"Where is Lucy?" Fredo asked. "Is she alright?"

"She's with her ladyship," Mr. North told him. "Help me get everyone out of here. The constables are useless, and I need to do something to keep my mind occupied."

"I'll find Jack," Harriet said. He nodded in agreement. Jack would be helpful. 

Back outside of the guest room, Lucy tried to listen to the doctors talking through the door. She was so worried that it had turned to an inexplicable numbness. Lady Isabella was trying to regroup again and had begun pacing. Lucy couldn't hear much of anything. The doctors were working diligently, focused on their task. 

"You really care for my sister, don't you?" Lucy commented, breaking the silence in the hallway.

"I do," she answered. She stopped and leaned her back against the wall then looked over at her. Lucy's ear was pressed to the door. She asked her, "Can you hear anything?"

"Not particularly. They're just splinting her legs," she told her.

Lady Isabella then asked curiously and apprehensively, "Did you see them? Her legs, I mean..."

Lucy answered, "No, I...I knew they were broken, but I didn't look closely. I couldn't."

The woman said shakily, "If she dies...I believe I will die."

Lucy eyed her and said, "No need for all that, your ladyship. She won't die. She's Charlotte Wells. Wells women are hard to kill, I assure you."

"Isabella is fine, please," she said to her, sounding exhausted. She began wringing her hands together and asked, "Can you hear anything now?"

"Not with you talking, your-" She quickly corrected, "Isabella."

Lady Isabella smiled slightly, "Then I shall be quiet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an ending in mind for all of this, which bodes well for me finishing and not leaving everyone hanging indefinitely. I have no idea how long it will take me to reach said ending, but I will try to make it a fun ride. I'm 100% sure we will all need some fun after 3x04.


	3. Chapter 3

The streets were lively with gossip about the wild event thrown by Lady Fitzwilliam. Those that had been ousted by the constables were trudging their way to their preferred taverns. A rumor was circulating that someone died and it was a most scandalous affair.

"She's not dead yet!" Nancy shouted behind her as she ran past another reporter. If Charlotte did die there would be hell to pay. If Nancy had anything to say about it, there was going to hell to pay anyway. She had become increasingly certain that Lady Fitz would support her entirely in exacting revenge, which she found vaguely amusing and it was some sort of silver lining in this whole mess. Charlotte had certainly not fallen from the balcony on her own. There was simply no way. Nancy pounded on the door where Mr. Young and Margaret were staying and attempted to catch her breath before they answered. For Christ's sake, she could have surely borrowed a carriage from Lady Fitz, but it didn't cross her mind until now. She wasn't thinking straight at all.

Jonah answered the door, looking befuddled, and then called for Margaret. Nancy leaned forward with her hands on her knees and gasped, "Mags...I need you to...stay calm..."

She crossed her arms, "I am calm. You're not calm though. Did you run all the way here from St. James's?"

"It's Charlotte...there's been...an accident..." Nancy let it just spill out. No need to beat around the bush.

~~~

Isaac was downing shot after shot at the bar of the Pincher's tavern, speaking to no one. Hal was pacing around a table. Emily still had no idea what was going on and had given up asking until the rumors trickled inside. She went to Hal and grabbed onto him, not unlike how he'd grabbed her earlier to remove her from the house, "Did you kill Lady Fitzwilliam?!"

His brow knitted and he cocked his head, "What?" He then snapped, "No. Where did that...what is going on?"

"Everyone's talking about it that just came in. Something about Lady Fitz falling down the stairs at the fight and dying," she told him.

"Fuck," he muttered, pushing Emily off and he went to Isaac. Emily followed him intent on listening and finding out what happened.

His brother looked up and said, "We should have gone to the constables. We could have told anyone in that house."

"And told them what precisely?" Hal growled.

"Told them there was an accident. It was..." He took another shot, "An accident. We didn't have to leave her lying there."

Hal protested, "We would be blamed and-"

"What happened?" Emily butted in, getting between them. "Clearly something happened."

"Go away, Emily!" Hal yelled and shoved her then he winced and reached out to her. Shoving a woman that got between him and his brother caused this. She looked at his hand with disgust and wouldn't let him touch her.

"Did I not tell you how horrid this girl is? You wouldn't listen to me," Isaac grumbled, drunkenly.

"And you've never listened to me!" He retorted. "Never!"

"If one of you would tell me what happened then maybe I could help, but no," Emily said mockingly. She refused to drop the matter and stood with her hands on her hips. "I can't help you if you killed Lady Fitz, but-"

Isaac turned and looked at her with the same completely baffled expression and asked, "What?"

She shrugged, "It's what people are saying. I'm just telling you what the people are saying."

"It was Charlotte Wells," Hal said quietly but looked at her with a stern expression.

The look he gave her that he intended to keep her quiet accomplished exactly nothing and she cried out, "You killed Char-"

He slapped his hand over her mouth and sat her down. He kept his hand on her face and looked around the room to see if she'd drawn any unwanted attention. Her eyes were the size of saucers. He bent down until his face was mere inches from hers and said, "Keep your voice down."

When he removed his hand she whispered, "You killed Charlotte Wells?"

"You should not have told her that, brother," Isaac said. Then he looked at Emily and said with a melodramatic shrug, "Maybe she's not dead."

"You'll both be killed," Emily's attempt to continue whispering just came out shrill and at a normal volume.

"If she's dead, it will be fine," Hal reassured them both.

"Those women saw," Isaac reminded him. "Perhaps you should also push them from a balcony."

"You pushed Charlotte Wells from a balcony?" Again, Emily's whisper was not exactly a whisper.

Paranoid, Hal looked around the room again, and then said, "It was an accident."

"Accident or no," she said and got up. "You two are going to be killed and I am not interested in dying with either of you. You've started a war now."

Hal and Isaac both watched her leave. After she exited the tavern Issac said bitterly to Hal, "You should probably stop her...push her from a balcony before she runs her giant fucking mouth to someone."

Hal glowered at him and then left him alone to drown himself with liquor.

~~~

Lydia and Kate, the only other two witnesses to the accident, arrived back at Mrs. May's. She opened the door for them immediately as if she'd been waiting for them just inside. Her eyes narrowed, "Back so soon from your little jaunt?"

"It was a tasteless, dull event," Lydia told her. News had not yet reached the old woman, thankfully. "Lady Fitz associates with pure riff-raff."

"Hm...you two don't look like you've come from a tasteless, dull event," she said as she looked them both up and down.

Kate kept her mouth shut like a good girl and Lydia answered quickly, "I'm not feeling well. The asylum took a toll. Kate is sick with worry about me, so we returned from the tasteless, dull event."

Mrs. May nodded, but still looked at them suspiciously. She made no attempt to hide that she didn't believe her, but she allowed them to retire to their room without more interrogation. She would question them later, and separately. They couldn't keep secrets from her in her own home. She'd hear about how tasteless and dull the event was tomorrow.

~~~

Margaret Wells barrelled into the house like a whirlwind. Lady Fitz' doormen knew Nancy and allowed them back in. She shouted, "Where is she?!"

Mr. North greeted them and led them briskly toward the guest room. All of the party-goers had finally departed and the place was a mess. Maids were already attempting to clean and the constables were investigating the back foyer. Harriet left moments before with Jack to tell Fanny and check on the children. Elizabeth and Fredo had also made their exit and promised to come by the next day. The door to the guest room remained closed and Lucy had been able to hear nothing. Lady Isabella was pacing again, walking the length of the hall like an anxious ghost, constantly wringing her hands together.

"Ma," Lucy said with relief and ran to hug her. "Please tell me no one saw you."

She hugged her back, "No one."

Nancy, still out of breath, said, "She was running too fast. I could barely see her."

"Why didn't you take my carriage?" Isabella asked her, "All you needed to do was ask."

She laughed breathily, "Didn't cross my mind until I'd already gotten there, your ladyship. I wondered that very thing myself."

"Please, everyone, just Isabella. I can't bear these cursed formalities right now," she sighed.

Margaret then asked, "Where's Charlotte? Can I see her?"

Lady Isabella looked at Margaret and said to Lucy, "Wells women are hard to kill indeed."

"The doctors won't let us in. They're setting her legs," Mr. North answered Margaret's question. She went to him and he embraced her tightly.

"Does anyone know what happened?" she questioned. She needed to know who to destroy for this.

The group went over what they knew, what they didn't know, and a number of speculations in between. Afterward, Nancy looked at Isabella and asked, "Do you have any gin?"

"Help yourself to whatever you like," she made a flippant motion with her hand. "If you can't find any, ask someone. That's what the help is for."

She nodded appreciatively, "Anyone else need anything to calm their nerves?"

The door opened and the second doctor stepped out, closing it behind him before anyone could go in. He stood in front of it and said to them, "She's not awake, but it's for the best. When she does wake up, she will likely be in a great deal of pain." He pulled a bottle from his bag, "Laudanum for when she wakes." He handed it to Isabella and then went on, "Her head is concussed, and if she makes it through the night there is a good chance she will live, but..." He paused, "We've done our best to repair her legs, but it was hard to tell the extent of the damage. I can't say if she will walk again."

"Let me through," Margaret demanded. She pulled away from Mr. North and pushed the doctor aside to open the door. He let her pass.

"I recommend that someone remain with her." The doctor looked at the group in the hallway and added, "Which I don't believe will be an issue. I'll return in the morning to change her bandages and look again at her legs. It will be easier to tell when the swelling goes down and I may need to reset them."

The other doctor joined them and said, "Leeches."

Everyone looked at him, including his colleague.

He seemed confused by everyone's confusion, "Leeches to prevent infection. On her legs. When her bandages are changed."

"Oh, I planned to pour gin on them," Nancy told him, straight-faced.

"We'll be on our way now. Goodnight, everyone." The doctor bowed slightly and then made his way out, followed by the moderately intoxicated doctor.

"Are we sure that man was even a doctor?" Nancy asked before they began filing into the large room.

The doctors had removed Charlotte's clothing down to her shift and corset and then covered her with the blanket for modesty, and also to cover the mess of her legs. One of them had even stoked the fire at some point so he room was quite warm. Her dress, panniers, and a number of bloody rags had been tossed aside. The wound on her head was lightly bandaged and she lay very still but she was breathing regularly. Margaret was on her knees next to the bed, clutching Charlotte's hand in both of hers. Everyone else hung back. Mr. North put his arm around Lucy's shoulders and she cried quietly. She never imagined anything like this happening to her sister.

Nancy took a deep, noisy breath, fighting back tears and then began to leave the room. Lady Isabella followed her out and said, "Send one of the maids or my doormen to me, please."

"Would you like anything while I rummage through your pantry?" she asked her.

Isabella shook her head. She returned to the room and placed the laudanum on the nightstand then began attempting to move a large cushioned chair from one corner of the room to a location closer to the bed. There was also a small sofa, a writing desk, and dressing table. The room was seldom used. It hadn't been used in probably six or so years, even. 

"Stop. Let me," Mr. North told her. He understood what she was trying to accomplish.

"Thank you," she said and lightly touched his shoulder. As he moved the chair she began looking in each of the drawers and cabinets only to find them barren aside from a nearly-empty bottle of what looked like whiskey. She sat it on the writing desk. There were no glasses. She was now doing like Mr. North and trying to keep herself occupied. She'd ask about Margaret Wells' not being hanged later, although it would surely be a fine way to pass the time while they waited for Charlotte to wake. Silence had engulfed the room. There was only the sound of the fire.

Lucy took a seat on the sofa and looked exhausted all at once. Isabella, ever the good hostess, approached her and asked, "Can I get you anything?" She shook her head and Isabella persisted, "I can get anything you like."

Margaret turned to her and said plainly, "This is your fault."

Lucy immediately snapped at her, coming to Isabella's, "Ma. Don't."

"I beg your pardon?" Lady Isabella responded, taken aback. She'd returned to her normal composed self, aside from the blood on her dress and wig being loose in places.

"Margaret, I swear to God," Mr. North started. "This is neither the time nor the place."

Nancy walked back into the tension carrying a bottle of gin and several glasses, being followed by a doorman. She stopped just over the threshold and looked from person to person.

Isabella turned from Margaret and said to the man, "Make sure all of the guest rooms are furnished, please. Send someone to tend to this one as well." She looked back at everyone, "You're all more than welcome to stay and you are welcome to anything here. Even you, Mrs. Wells. If I'm not mistaken, you were supposed to be hanged, but for some reason, you are not and I have welcomed you into my home, so I would sincerely appreciate you not accusing me of nonsense in the heat of the moment because you want someone to blame."

"I missed something," Nancy mumbled and sat the glasses down on the dressing table. She sat on the stool and poured herself a drink.

Lady Fitz went on, "When Charlotte wakes we shall ask her what happened and address the matter accordingly. If she were pushed...if-if someone did this to her..." she stammered a bit and her voice cracked, but she lost herself only briefly. She continued, "I swear to all of you that they will suffer. We will destroy them completely."

"Hear, hear," Nancy raised her glass.

A murmur of agreement passed through them and Margaret began to apologize.

"That isn't necessary. You're her mother and you would do anything to protect her. I do understand that." She turned for the door, "Now I'll be going upstairs to change because this dress is suffocating me."

"I like her," Nancy said after she'd heard her footsteps disappear down the hall. "For a fancy lady, she's not all that bad. Leave her be, Mags. She's fond of Charlotte."

Margaret stood and moved to the chair. She rubbed her face and sighed. "I just can't wrap my head around this...I can't believe Charlotte is lying there...so, so lifeless..."

Nancy poured each of them a drink and passed them around in silence. Mr. North took a seat on the footstool at the end of the bed. No one argued and everything sipped their drinks quietly. After a few moments, Nancy crossed the rooms and tossed the blanket up, exposing Charlotte's legs abruptly. Lucy looked away. They were splinted with several long shafts of metal from her thighs down to her ankles and they were bandaged extensively. They were also obviously swollen, and there were some patches of blood spreading across the white fabric.

"Seen worse," Nancy said and covered her again. "She'll be fine. She's a fighter."

Mr. North made a grunt of agreement and Lucy laughed slightly before quiet fell over the room again.

Lady Isabella re-entered after drafting a quick letter to Sophia that she sent off with one of the footmen. She wanted it to reach her before the morning papers and she wanted to tell her that her uncle had returned to London as well. Her hair was down around her shoulders and she'd changed into a long chemise covered by a red silk dressing gown. Mr. North averted his eyes and everyone remained quiet. "You're all acting as if I'm in a complete state of undress."

Nancy chuckled and handed a glass to Isabella. She accepted it and stepped over to the bed. Charlotte had regained some of her color. She touched her cheek and then looked down toward her covered legs. She cleared her throat, looked away, and focused on the drink. Everyone looked completely exhausted, but no one appeared willing to rest in any way beyond sitting down. Isabella stepped out into the hall again. She walked quietly, going over and over the events of the night. She knew it wouldn't do any good, but she did it anyway. She couldn't sleep, not yet. She also didn't think her stomach could take anything, but it took Nancy's gin just fine. It was a waiting game now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to wait to post the next chapter until after 3x04, so hold onto your knickers. I suspect we'll all need it more at that time because we're going to get wrecked by the hellstorm of misery.

Lucy drifted off to sleep, propped on her elbow on the sofa. Lady Isabella carefully moved her to a more comfortable position and covered her with a small blanket after one of her attendants came and stocked the room with furnishings. Margaret had been dozing lightly in the chair. Mr. North eventually got up and began walking the house as if on patrol for rogues. Nancy remained awake and watching everything like a hawk from the dressing table.

Isabella extinguished a few of the room's candles and then carefully climbed into the bed next to Charlotte. She kissed her forehead and lay close to her, being sure not to touch her legs, but close enough to find comfort. She pillowed her head on one arm and took Charlotte's nearest hand with her free one. She laced their fingers and noticed that Margaret seemed to be studying her in the dim lighting. She closed her eyes and attempted to sleep, but couldn't, even though she felt utterly exhausted. Her worry was stronger than her exhaustion. When she opened her eyes again, Margaret had slouched down in the chair and appeared to be dozing off once more.

She heard some shuffling and watched as Nancy moved in the shadows and out of the room. Isabella suspected that no one would be utilizing the other guest rooms she prepared. She didn't take offense. It just meant that everyone's love of Charlotte surpassed their own desire for comfort. She had never met a group of people so insanely dedicated to another human being before. She whispered to Charlotte, "Your mother's here. I'm guessing she wasn't hanged unless it's her ghost asleep in my chair. I'm unsure if you knew that or not." She kissed her shoulder, "It's alright if you kept it a secret from me. I hope you wake soon. I'm not fond of one-sided conversations."

"Isabella," Margaret said quietly, and when she looked in her direction, she went on, "Thank you for taking care of my daughter while I was away."

"I feel she's more been taking care of me," Isabella responded.

"Either way, it seems that you've been genuinely kind and she hasn't had much of that."

"I find it-"

Margaret cut her off, "I'm trying to apologize and thank you, so let me before I change my mind."

"I see." Lady Isabella took a deep breath and conceded, "I accept and you are welcome."

"Now be quiet before we wake Lucy."

~~~

Nancy and Mr. North sat together at the top of the main staircase. They looked out over the expanse that had been filled with people earlier as they passed the bottle of gin back and forth.

"Nothing like trying to drink away your worry," Mr. North said and handed her the bottle.

She chuckled, "I won't be able to sleep until that girl wakes up and I know who did this to her. Then it will be a mere nap before I'm ready to destroy whoever it was."

Mr. North also let out a chuckle, "I won't be able to sleep until Lady Fitz gets proper doormen."

"You mean more like good bawdy house bullies?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I mean. She can afford better. None of those men could keep out a fly."

Nancy looked at him and tried to stop from laughing, "You after a new job, Will?"

He reached for the bottle and said, "No. I'm expressing a valid concern."

"I think Charlotte rather enjoys the fine lady's company." She held the bottle away from him. "Don't you think?"

"They're friends," he answered, motioning for the bottle with his fingers.

"Aye, Will." She gave in and handed him the bottle. "Friends."

He took a draught and shrugged, "If it pleases her." And then he added, "There are worse benefactors."

"Far worse," Nancy agreed.

"Far, far worse," he said and passed the gin.

After a sip, she said to him, "As I said earlier, as far as the fancy folk go, she's rather pleasant."

"She let me use her home for a boxing match, so of course I like the woman," he laughed.

Nancy joined him in laughter, "You're a very easy man to win over."

"I never claimed otherwise."

~~~

The first sign that Charlotte stirred back to the world of the conscious was a pained sigh. Isabella immediately awoke from her light sleep and half sat up. She still held her hand and Charlotte grasped it tightly.

"I'm here," Isabella said to her. The sun was up and the room no longer dark. Charlotte's eyes were barely open, but open. She stroked her cheek gently. "you're alright and we have medicine for your pain."

Margaret leaned forward and took her other hand in both of hers. "Can you hear me, Charlotte? It's your Ma."

She didn't respond exactly, but she did shutter and let out a whimper. She came to slowly and remained disoriented for several minutes. With an intense grimace, she tried to sit up. Isabella put her arms around her and guided her back. She struggled only for a few seconds before lying back down. She winced and her eyes were filled with tears.

"My legs," she said weakly and writhed in pain. She reached for Isabella's hand again and squeezed it tightly again when she grasped it.

Margaret snatched up the laudanum and the whiskey. She uncorked both bottles and said to Isabella, "Sit her up a little. I hate this poison, but I can't see her suffer."

Isabella nodded and slid an arm behind her shoulders, propping her up just enough to take a sip of the opium being given to her by her mother. She chased it with the whiskey and then lay back again.

"That tasted like...horse piss, Ma," she said to her, still very obviously in pain, but now also bothered by the bitter medicine. She closed her eyes again.

"Lucy, fetch your Pa and Nancy!" Margaret commanded without turning. 

Lucy bolted up and out of the room, not having been sleeping very deeply either.

"God, Charlotte..." Mrs. Wells seemed to have more to say, but none of it would come out suddenly. She began to cry and practically fell onto Charlotte on the bed. She just kept sobbing, and saying, "Oh, Charlotte."

Isabella sat quietly next to her, holding her hand as she tried to force her way through the excruciating pain she must've been feeling.

"I need to know who won," Charlotte finally said and opened her eyes slightly again.

"Won what?" Isabella asked.

"The fight, you silly thing," she smiled and winced. "I put my money on Jack."


	5. Chapter 5

Nancy and Mr. North rushed into the room with Lucy in tow and the three of them began clamoring at once. Charlotte groaned and Isabella shushed them.

"My head is pounding," Charlotte said. "It's nearly as bad as my legs." She looked up at the ceiling, "How bad are my legs? It feels like they're in pieces...even with this medicine." She groaned dramatically, "The medicine just makes me care less about it..."

"The doctor is coming by soon to look at them. He said it was difficult to tell last night," Isabella answered.

"Have you seen 'em?" she asked.

Nancy gave a shrug, "I looked. I've seen worse."

"On a dead person, I suspect," Charlotte laughed slightly and then grew serious. "I want to see."

Margaret started, "Why not wait for the doctor? He's going to remove the bandages and-"

"I've never known you to be put off by a little injury, Ma," she interrupted. "I want to see what this hell looks like." She sat up and fumbled with the edge of the blanket. She tossed it aside and then pulled up her shift as best she could. She looked down at her legs for only a second and groaned before laying back down, "Can't see much for the bandages, which I suspect are holding them together from the looks of it."

Isabella carefully covered her again and then placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to step out for a moment."

"I hope to make yourself presentable," Charlotte picked at her in good spirits and laughed.

Lady Fitz smirked and said, "Perhaps I'll send someone in with a mirror for you, Charlotte."

She slipped quietly from the room. Now that Charlotte was awake, a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She closed the door behind her and let out a huge sigh of relief. She stood alone in the hall for a while, composing herself. Charlotte seemed alright, in the head at least, with the same snark and candor. Her legs though, the best to be hoped for was for her to be a cripple with crutches, she feared. Isabella didn't care either way, but she forced the thoughts from her mind and steadied herself. She needed to prepare for the day. She was curious about what the press was saying and to see if Sophia had replied to her missive. She also, in fact, needed to make herself presentable for the doctor and she was determined to pay any debts to him before anyone else could so much as attempt to do so.

She took a deep breath and instructed for tea and breakfast to be sent to the guest room while she dressed and tended to her other business.

~~~

"Charlotte, what happened?" Nancy asked her the question everyone else wanted to ask once they'd all asked her repeatedly how she felt and expressed their endless relief that she'd not slipped away in the night or split her skull open on Isabella's floor.

She closed her eyes again. She knew the question would come eventually and she had been dreading it. "If I say I don't remember because of this bump on my head, will everyone leave me be about it?"

"Un-fuckin'-likely," her mother scolded. "Whoever did this to you will need to be found and punished in kind."

Shaking her head she said, "The party was too loud and I went to escape-"

"Liar." Nancy accused with a scoff. "Not even a good lie, girl. You can do better."

"You could've died, Charlotte," Lucy cut in. "We thought you would die. Whatever happened...whoever..." She was unsure how to word what she was trying to say. She had her suspicions and she'd had them since before she and Lady Isabella had even found her - Isaac Pincher.

"I had too much to drink," Charlotte lied again. "Now hand me that drink," she motioned for the bottle. "I'm parched."

Margaret gave her the bottle and said, "We can tell when you're lying. We're not dumb culls."

She took it and forced herself up onto her elbows again to take a drink then gave it back. "I made a horrible mistake is what happened."

"Finally, some truth," her Pa said.

Nancy came over and knelt down next to her, "Who are you protecting, Charlotte?"

"You almost died," Lucy reiterated. "And I don't think..." She quickly wiped her eyes, not wanting to be the only one crying now. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what I'd do without you, you idiot."

"I'm not dead and no one needs to be punished..." Her voice trailed off and then she said ashamed, "Except for myself."

"You're talking nonsense," Margaret insisted.

Charlotte grumbled noisily and lay back down. She felt lightheaded when she sat up for more than a few moments. She didn't know if it was the conversation or a symptom of her head injury. She remembered very well what happened and had been lying on the cold floor alone, going over it again and again for what felt like hours before Isabella found her. She wasn't sure exactly how long it had been, but it had been painful on a number of levels. Part of her hoped to just die as she lay there, and after a while, she thought she might. Had she just stayed with Isabella...if only she had stayed where she was supposed to be. And of course, it had to be Isabella that found her there. Who the hell else would miss her enough to look for her? Of course, the person who cared so deeply for her found her after she had done something so profoundly stupid.

"I'm protecting Lady Isabella..." she answered quietly after a while.

Everyone froze, in shock and confusion.

"Come again?" Nancy said.

"But she found you," said Lucy. "I was with her."

"That rich tart," Margaret started to get up.

"No. No, I didn't mean..." Charlotte corrected quickly and tried to hold back her tears that were no longer just tears from the pain radiating up her legs. She grabbed onto her Ma's dress and tried to keep her sitting. "That's not what I meant. It wasn't her. She would never. But if she knows...I fear it will kill her." She covered her eyes with her forearm, and then she told them all what happened.

The five of them sat quietly for a moment before Margaret said, "Well, I'm certainly going to kill the Pinchers. I've got a gun."

"Where did you get a gun, Ma?" Lucy asked before anyone else could then she said, "Oh, fuck it. Nevermind."

"It was an accident," Charlotte said half-heartedly. "Just let it lie for once."

"Just let it lie? Those quarreling fuckwits could have killed you!" Nancy exclaimed.

"My God, stop reminding me," Charlotte sighed.

"Lady Isabella doesn't need to know you were tubbing him," Lucy shrugged. "Just that it was their fault."

"Those wretched cunts bring ruin wherever they go." Margaret's face grew red and she was already plotting, ignoring Charlotte's plea.

"Both of you just stop. The only one that deserves to be punished is me, and well..." she motioned dramatically to her legs. "I think it's been seen to by fate or God or what-have-you."

"You can't believe that," said Lucy. "You don't deserve to be punished for enjoying-"

"Stop," she cut her off.

Nancy suggested, "Perhaps Lady Fitz isn't as delicate as you think." Attempting to be the voice of reason, she added, "And perhaps honesty is-"

They were interrupted by a light rap on the door. Lucy opened it and a selection of food was brought in along with tea. A special tray came in for Charlotte with a bowl of soup, and the attendant said, "Her ladyship thought you may prefer something lighter."

"Is she always this thoughtful?" Lucy asked as she spread jam on a crumpet.

"She is obscenely kind." Margaret stood and stretched after having been sitting in the chair all night. "And rich."

"It's not like that," Charlotte insisted. She felt tired and she was also much more hungry than she realized. Mr. North arranged pillows behind her so she could sit up a bit more and he remained quiet, listening to the chatter.

"I'd take her as my keeper if I hadn't gone into business with Mrs. Harvey. This seems like an excellent arrangement." Lucy laughed. Charlotte glowered at her from the bed and she said, "Sorry. It was a joke."

~~~

The doctor's assessment was grim but could have been worse. He didn't think it necessary to undo anything they had done the night before, but he removed the bulk of the bandages and left only the ones holding the splints in place. She'd broken both of her legs in several places. Her right leg, that took the brunt of the impact, was much worse. One of the bones had actually broken so severely that it punctured her shin and this was the source of the blood on her bandages. it had been put back into place and the wound sutured. The doctors had also had to make several incisions in both of her legs to remove bone fragments that could never hope to heal properly that were protruding under her skin.

"We did our best to...put everything back where it is supposed to be, but it will take time to heal," he said. "If it seems to be healing...very poorly or not correctly...it will need to be remedied, potentially rebroken and reset. Keep your movement to a minimum and if you can hire a nurse-"

"I will hire one," Isabella spoke quickly before anyone else could comment.

"I also have some concerns about..." He paused, "I don't want to alarm any of you, but brain bleeding. So, Miss Wells, if you experience any changes in vision, hearing...anything of the sort...you need to call for me immediately. You may seem fine now...relatively speaking, given the circumstances. It remains a risk, likely for the next several days."

Charlotte nodded and said, "Yes." And then, "Will I walk again?"

He seemed apprehensive to speak, but eventually went on, "Leg braces for rickets could possibly be modified and used with crutches, but I can't guarantee anything at this time. It may not be as bad as that or it may be worse."

She covered her face with both of her arms and said nothing else.

Lady Isabella saw the doctor out and returned with word that Jonas Young had come to check up on his wife, who disappeared in the night. Nancy also took her leave to check on the girls, and she said she would take the news to Harriet. Mr. North remained, vowing to look out for the Marquess of Blayne, and Lucy also stayed. When Lucy left the room, Lady Isabella sat in what had been Margaret's chair, glad to be alone with Charlotte for a moment.

"You will tell me if anything feels...wrong, will you not?" She confirmed.

"Of course," was her answer as she reached her hand out to take Isabella's.

"What happened last night?" she then asked the dreaded question.

And so Charlotte lied. Not to protect the Pinchers, but to protect Isabella. The guilt she felt was exponentially worse than both the pain in her legs and her head combined. It turned out that it was harder to lie to someone you cared about. She didn't know why this surprised her and it only made her feel worse. "I wanted to get away from the noise for a moment," she said. "I didn't intend to be gone for more than a moment and went upstairs. I was leaning and I fell. It was stupid. Quite anticlimactic really."

Lady Isabella frowned and then kissed her fingers, but she wasn't sure if she believed it. She was still so exhausted, and mostly glad that Charlotte was alive. She said, "Charlotte, you can trust me, you know...with secrets." She specified, "Like your mother, that she was alive. You know I'm quite good at secrets, having kept my own. Besides, I've no one to tell. I have only you and Sophia, and Sophia has run off with the footman."

Charlotte felt another pang of guilt and she pretended she was apologizing for her dalliances with Isaac as best she could. "I'm so sorry."

"All is forgiven already."

She smiled and said, "You wanted a scandal and now you've gotten yourself a bed-ridden, crippled whore in your guest room."

Isabella leaned forward to kiss her, but paused, "Oh, don't be so harsh. We don't know for sure you're crippled yet."

With a laugh, she said, "You've also opened your home to my unsavory family and friends. Imagine how the people will talk."

"And I will let them talk." She touched her forehead to Charlotte's, "I think I would die without you."

"Nonsense," Charlotte whispered, feeling tears welling in her eyes again. "Don't be foolish. Now kiss me."

Isabella did as she was told and kissed her. When she pulled away, she said, "I'm not being foolish. Reckless, certainly, but for the first time in my life I don't believe I'm being foolish."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the kudos and comments so far! I haven't written anything in years until now, and it's my pleasure to provide this service. 
> 
> Is anyone else bummed that I overestimated Emily Lacey's moral fiber? lol I was surprisingly accurate with a few characters' responses I think, but boy, I gave Emily too much credit.

Lydia tossed and turned until morning. They needed to get out of Mrs. May's house, also Charlotte Wells was probably dead. Her thoughts flipped back and forth between these two facts. She would be blamed for Charlotte's death and they'd come for her - the full wrath of the Wells family, Nancy Birch, and Isabella Fitzwilliam - they would all come for her. They wouldn't come for her with sabotage or try to put her back in Bedlam, they would come to have her drawn and quartered, and they'd do it themselves.

Poor Charlotte. Lydia didn't know what happened. Charlotte was lying there, unable to speak, with her legs twisted under her when they found her. She'd clearly fallen. Lydia hated leaving her there, she truly did, or at least she told herself she did, but her self-preservation impulse was stronger than anything else she felt. She hadn't lived this long because she helped people.

At daybreak, she considered getting up. She needed to begin the day. She needed to do something to get her home back and her life back. She couldn't be sucked back into the hell of living under Mrs. May's roof. It was like being in Bedlam all over again, but with different colored walls. She also needed to find out if Charlotte had lived.

She got up and began quietly dressing. 

"Mrs. Quigley, where are you going?" Kate whispered.

"I'm going out to see if there's word of Charlotte's condition," she answered.

Sitting up, she told her, "I'd like to come."

"Get dressed then, dear. I'd like to get out before the old hag wakes...if she even sleeps." Lydia went back to adjusting her wig.

"Perhaps we could go to the Justice or the constables and tell them what happened." Kate was determined to reveal that the two of them had been at the scene.

"If Charlotte lives then there is nothing at all to tell, so let us hope she lives," she told her.

"We should have told someone last night. She was alone, Mrs. Quigley."

Lydia sighed, "I know that, but surely someone found her. The house was full of people. It just couldn't be us that found her is all."

Kate apprehensively approached her, "Who is she to you? If you don't mind me asking..."

Lydia turned around slowly to face her and she felt something like sadness. She wanted to tell her the truth, but she didn't know what the truth was exactly. Each time she started to speak, she changed her mind about what she wanted to say. Finally, after a number of false starts, all she said was, "She used to be one of my girls."

"Like me?" Kate questioned.

"Not quite, but I wronged her greatly, and she wronged me in return. I'd never wish death on her...only moderate ruin." This was all fairly honest.

"I hope she's alive," Kate said earnestly.

~~~ 

At Saracen's Head, Hal was trying to figure out a way to get back into the deal with Mr. Young and Isaac was trying to figure out how to forget the night before. The latter was still drinking, just straight from the bottle now.

"Snap out of it, brother," Hal said to him and clapped him on the back. He was in much better spirits than he had been in before. "We have business to tend to."

"How can you be worried about business right now?" Isaac asked with a glare.

"Because..." He lowered his voice, although there were only a few drunkards and a tavern whore present so early. "You're going to give us away if you continue this sulking, so it would be best if we acted normally and carried on with our lives like we have no idea what happened."

"I'm going to go see her," he got up from the bar. "You can do as you like."

"See who?" Hal asked. He knew the answer.

"Charlotte," Isaac stumbled toward the door.

Hal grabbed him and sat him back down. "You will not."

"I just need to know if she's alright," he said and tried to get back up.

"You're acting like a lunatic," said Hal, holding his shoulders firmly. "Sit here quietly, stop being a mewling cunt, and let the news come to you because it will. A harlot falling from the balcony of a lady's house is something people will talk about. Don't go looking for updates." He took away his drink and added, "Also sober the fuck up so we can go speak with Mr. Young and fix this mess you caused."

"That I caused?" He scoffed.

"Yes. That you caused by fucking around with that bitch," Hal said, still calmly.

Isaac reminded him, "You, too, have been tupping a bitch."

"Emily has only attempted to help us with our deal, while your useless whore ruined it," he said, trying very hard to control his temper.

"I'm going to lie down before I pound your head in," his brother said and got up again.

Hal watched him closely to ensure that he went upstairs and did not instead slip out of the door to drunkenly wander the street crying his way to St. James's.

~~~

Nancy arrived at Harriet's and brought word that Charlotte wasn't dead yet. In truth, she needed to get out of Isabella's house and running this errand seemed to be a good opportunity. Although fond of Isabella, and although she had been nothing aside from exceedingly hospitable, and although she had an impressive selection of gin, Nancy felt strange there in the huge house with the attendants and flimsy doormen. It made her feel paradoxically claustrophobic and she needed some air.

Fanny wrapped her arms around her when she said that Charlotte was awake and talking like her normal self, which was a good sign. Fanny then began to cry and started soaking Nancy's coat.

"She's not dead, Fanny," Nancy tried to pry her off. "You should only cry this much if someone's died, ya silly girl."

She released her suffocating grip, nodded and wiped her eyes then asked, "May I go see her?"

"Yes. Lady Isabella's doors are open for any friends of Charlotte."

"Are you certain?" Fanny began crying again, "Are you certain this lady is...is...allowing harlots...into her...house?"

"I'm certain. The woman is so nice I'm beginning to think there's something wrong with her like perhaps she's planning to kill and eat us when we've let down our guard," she told her. "I stayed up all night to keep watch." 

Fanny laughed and went to make herself presentable for her trip to St. James's. Harriet gathered Jacob to take him along to join his family. Nancy told him Charlotte had an accident. He was only mildly distressed that Charlotte would be staying with Lady Isabella for a while because her legs were too hurt for her to move. He'd seen more than his fair share of horrors already. He perked up when Nancy said there would also be snacks from the nice, rich lady.

"I'll meet you all there, I want to pay a visit to the Pinchers," Nancy told Fanny and Harriet. She didn't tell them why.

~~~

A carriage pulled up in front of Lady Isabella's house and Harcourt hopped out, very perky. He twirled his cane while Mr. North stood at the door with his arms crossed.

"How's Charlotte Wells?" The Marquess asked. "I haven't heard that she's dead, so I assume my sister has her somewhere inside. My sister loves broken things."

"Charlotte is alive," he responded shortly, maintaining eye contact.

Harcourt sauntered closer, "May I come inside?"

"No, you may not," he answered.

He frowned, "Will you fetch my sister then?"

"I will not."

Harcourt paused and looked Mr. North up and down, deciding what he wanted to do. "Well, my sweet sister has obviously thrown her reputation out of the window...cavorting with blacks and hemorrhaging her money on a whore like a drunk sailor on Cheapside."

"Watch what you say, your lordship," Mr. North advised sternly.

"Tell me," he said, "What happened last night? My sources are unclear."

Mr. North stared at him, unmoving from his position, "It's not your concern."

"Can a man not be worried about his only sister? My dear, sweet, beloved sister..." he frowned again, pouted a bit. "Her favorite pet is injured, and you see, my sister can be unstable."

Another carriage arrived, interrupting and Mrs. Harvey stepped out, immediately announcing herself by asking, "What have we here?"

"Ah!" Harcourt exclaimed and turned. He bowed to her slightly, "Lord Harcourt Fitzwilliam, Marquess of Blayne. I don't believe we've met."

"A pleasure," she greeted him. "Elizabeth Harvey. I've just opened a tailor's shop in Golden Square, your lordship."

"I've only just returned to London, perhaps I'll pay you a visit."

She eyed him and smiled politely, making her way to the door, "Please do. I assure you that you would not be disappointed in our selection of fine velvet."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Harvey," he said, "Are you here to see my sister, perchance?"

"Yes, and Charlotte Wells, of course." She passed him and Mr. North moved aside. "They are both dear friends."

"Will you please tell my sister that her refusing to see me is quite hurtful and I'd like to apologize for whatever perceived injustice I've committed against her?"

"Gladly," she smiled again at him before slipping inside. Mr. North immediately stepped back in front of the door.

"I suggest you move along now, your lordship," Mr. North advised.

Harcourt pursed his lips and pointed at him amusedly as he walked backward toward his carriage, "You are much better at this than her other doormen."

~~~

"Pincher fucks, get your poxy assholes out here!" Nancy yelled as she entered the tavern. She opened the door so forcefully that it slammed into the wall, getting everyone's attention. After the room silenced and all of the patrons turned to look at her, it crossed her mind that she perhaps should not have come alone. She was very tired, but before she slept, she needed to address this.

Hal hurried down the stairs and Isaac followed, but slowly, stumbling down a few of the steps. Hal shouted, "It's too early for this sort of racket!"

When Isaac saw Nancy he stumbled again, but this time came to an unsteady stop. He looked down. Nancy really only cared about Hal, since he was the one who pushed Charlotte, and she stomped up toward him. "I know what you did last night, you craven little shit," she said. "Charlotte said it was an accident and wants to let it lie, so I'm not going to kill you-"

"Keep your voice down, woman!" he yelled - the opposite of him keeping his own voice down.

"Charlotte's alright?" Isaac spoke up from behind Hal and looked up sheepishly.

"Alive, yes. I wouldn't say alright," she glared in his direction briefly before she looked back at Hal and said, "Stay away from us and we'll leave you be. That's what I came here to say. It goes for both of you..." She looked at Isaac again, "Either of you come near Charlotte and I'll cut off your cocks, have them dipped them in bronze, and make them into doorknockers." She turned and walked back out before either of them could say anything else.

When she stepped back outside, Emily Lacey was lurking in the alley. "Nance," she said and got her attention. "Charlotte's not dead, is she? Charlotte can't die."

"Not dead," she confirmed. "Broken legs though. Lady Fitz is tending to her."

"Damn, you look tired," Emily stated, awkwardly shifting the subject.

Nancy said nothing and just continued standing there, waiting for Emily to make her point.

After what felt like an eternity, Emily said, "So Charlotte's not dead, it was an accident, no one's coming after the Pinchers?"

"Yes, Emily." Nancy raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly she was getting at.

"That's good. I'm glad," she told her. "For Charlotte," she specified after a moment.

"I'll give Charlotte your regards, I suppose," she responded confusedly and then made her way back to St. James's. She made it only as far as the parlor. It was quiet there and was when how tired she was truly hit her. She had been running on gin and adrenaline for an extremely long time. She sat down on a sofa for what she meant to be only a moment. She intended to get up after resting her feet, but she fell asleep.

Isabella passed by a moment later and did a double-take. She shook her head and laughed at herself for having guest rooms prepared.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In 3x03 at approximately 13:25, Isabella gives Charlotte a banknote for 10 pounds. This tiny detail has plagued me endlessly. They don't discuss it at all and it's easily unnoticed. If you didn't catch it and I've now broken your little hearts, I'm sorry. Don't fret, I'll fix this too. It took me a bit longer with this chapter because I was trying to figure out Georgian currency and the cost of things and then I went down a weird rabbit hole and I now know more about Georgian currency than will ever be useful in my life, and then I proceeded to not even use my newfound knowledge in this chapter. Enjoy!

Jacob sat on the edge of Charlotte's bed and she scratched his back. Isabella had produced oranges and strawberries then pudding and chocolate. She also had pineapple, but Charlotte forbade her from having it brought out. Fanny sat in the chair next to the bed and the three of them enjoyed the sweets.

"Are we going to stay with Lady Isabella now?" Jacob asked Charlotte.

"Her house has lots of empty rooms and it's a bit crowded at Harriet's," she said, "So until our place on Greek Street is repaired, she said you and Pa can if you want to."

"I'll stay. Miss Isabella is nice," he said and shoved a section of orange into his mouth.

"Lady Isabella," Fanny corrected him.

"No, no. It's fine," Charlotte shrugged it off. "She doesn't mind. She only minds when it's people she doesn't like."

Jacob then announced, "Nancy said she might murder and eat us though."

"Nancy said what now?" Charlotte asked through a laugh.

"It's true, she did say that, but in jest," Fanny agreed with Jacob. She was still weepy and red-faced, but she also laughed a little at the comment.

"I assure you she doesn't eat people...at least not in that manner, I don't think." Charlotte lowered her voice and added in a spooky tone, "There is one room she never lets me go in that she keeps locked. Perhaps it leads to her dungeon." She looked toward Fanny and said to her, "You and my other girls are more than welcome to work at Harriet's for the time being until Greek Street is back up and running. Harriet said she'd be glad to have you."

"Is Greek Street going to be repaired?" Fanny asked excitedly.

Charlotte nodded and look at her little brother again, "Jacob, you can go visit everyone at Harriet's whenever you like. You can even take a carriage."

"Neat." He hopped off the bed and said, "I'm going to go get another orange from the kitchens."

"Lady Isabella is going to turn him into a little lord, spoiling him with treats," Fanny giggled.

Charlotte laughed as well, "At least he went to get it himself and didn't send for it. When he starts sending for things then I'll get worried and send him back to Harriet's straight away." She sat up a bit, "It's only temporary. The Greek Street repairs are taken care of."

Fanny cocked her head to the side curiously, "But the cost..."

"I got some back from the Pinchers, and..." Charlotte gestured around a bit, "It's taken care of."

"Guilt money because you fell from her balcony?" Fanny looked shocked.

"No. God, no. She'd insisted upon paying any additional costs before I went over the balcony. Falling from the balcony actually put a little kink in my plans to get started today since I'm trapped in this bed for weeks...or months now...or however long." Fanny wiped her eyes again and tried to stop from full-on crying again. Charlotte went on, "Don't tell the other girls just yet. It's going to take some time to do the repairs and get new furnishings."

"Is it true what they say about you and her ladyship?" She then asked, very abruptly.

"Is what true?"

"That you're her mistress, or...well...she's your keeper or..."

"She doesn't have a husband, so I'm not her mistress," Charlotte answered. "But we are fond of one another's company. I don't know what I'd call it. She insists on helping. She's incorrigible about it really. I've given up arguing with her."

"She seems very nice, not like other people who live in big houses like this," Fanny looked around the room. "I've had limited interactions with real aristocracy, but what I have had has been...unpleasant."

"She's the kindest person I know."

"I assume you're talking about me," Lady Isabella appeared in the doorway. "And not some other kind woman."

Fanny jumped from her seat and began apologizing as if she'd been caught doing something wrong by her mother. Charlotte chuckled. Fanny wasn't at all accustomed to cavorting with the wealthy. She gave them far too much deference. 

"Goodness, it's alright. I merely wanted to ask if it was safe to wake Nancy or if I should leave her on the sofa in the parlor. She doesn't seem like someone I'd want to startle, but a bed would be more comfortable than where she's fallen asleep."

Both Fanny and Charlotte laughed, and Charlotte said, "Leave her. She flays people when startled."

"Also there seems to be a rumor circulating among my staff that I'm a cannibal. I hope it doesn't make it outside of the house, as that would be too much scandal at once for the people to handle. I also don't think it's the type of scandal that would encourage Sophia to return."

~~~

Lucy rode back to Golden Square with Elizabeth to check on their boys. On the way, Elizabeth said, "If there's anything Fredo and I can do to help, do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Elizabeth. Sincerely," she said. "This has been...it still is so scary. The doctor said something about her brain bleeding this morning, and her legs...she may never walk again, and there isn't a single damn thing I can do. There's nothing anyone can do."

"I'm so sorry, Lucy," Elizabeth reached out and placed a hand on her arm. "She has the affection of Lady Isabella and her deep pockets, so she's better off than a lot of people would be."

Lucy began to cry and covered her face with her hand. "Is it alright if I stay at St. James' again tonight?"

"Yes, of course. You're my business partner. Come and go as you please. Working may help distract your mind a bit as soon as you're ready. It's time to look at our books and do some of the boring bawd work."

"Thank you again," Lucy said.

"You are welcome." Mrs. Harvey had planned to fleece the girl, but now decided against it. She actually quite liked her. She also liked Charlotte and the rest of her family. Lady Isabella was also a ridiculously useful connection to have.

Mrs. May was at the door of their molly house when they arrived. She whirled around and exclaimed, "There you are!"

"Oh, fuck..." Elizabeth muttered, stepping out of the carriage.

"Why is that ancient witch here?" Lucy asked, angrily.

"She's our other business partner...I may have forgotten to mention her because I was hoping to be rid of her soon." She whispered, "I was honestly hoping she'd keel over and die before she became of import."

The old woman said, "Is this the other Wells girl? I prefer Charlotte, as I'm sure most do. It's a shame she's going to be a cripple, but good for you, dear."

"Shut up," Lucy sneered.

Elizabeth grabbed Lucy's wrist before she could charge the woman. No need to have Lucy Wells murder an elderly woman at their door and draw unnecessary attention to their establishment. She asked Mrs. May, "What do you want?"

"To check on my investment," she said, simply.

Mrs. Harvey opened the door and motioned for her to go inside, "Then check and be on your way. I'm sure you'll like what we've done to the place."

~~~

Isabella had a hot meal prepared for all of her visitors that now included Jonas. She enjoyed the company in her home and playing the role of a gracious hostess. She hated the circumstances but tried to make the best of it. She opened up her seldom-used banquet room for them and took her own dinner in the guest room with Charlotte. Charlotte grew quiet as they finished up. Before Isabella could ask her what was wrong, she told her, "My legs hurt like a God damned beast." She winced as she slouched further down in the bed. "My Ma always warned us about that rubbish," she nodded toward the bottle of laudanum. "I only want a little and then...do you have rum? I need so much rum to follow that piss and I'm bored with whiskey for today. Being drunk also helps with the pain."

"Anything for you. Would you also like some pudding for dessert?"

She smiled, but looked uncomfortable, "I had my fill of pudding earlier when Jacob was gorging himself. Please don't spoil my little brother too much while he's here."

"I'll be back shortly," she kissed her forehead. "And I'll resist the urge to spoil Jacob."

Isabella sent someone to take the dishes from Charlotte's room and drop off a bottle of rum and several glasses then she went to check on her other guests. She didn't interrupt. They were finishing their dessert and would be filing into the guest room shortly, which is why she requested so many glasses. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves, as much as was possible, given the situation. She was glad and felt like she was helping in her own way.

"Would you like me to pour the poison in with the rum or do some manner of hand-off?" She asked Charlotte as she filled two of the small glasses.

"Pour the piss in and then hand me the entire bottle actually."

She did so. Charlotte downed the glass and sat it on the table then took a large gulp directly from the bottle of rum. She let out a loud groan and mumbled, "Fuck my legs."

Isabella refilled the glass and handed it back to her then took care of the other glasses. "Your Ma brought some dresses, chemises, and things for you. The nurse will be coming tomorrow and the doctor will be coming by once a week. I also heard about some new medical techniques for broken bones from France."

"Well, you had quite a busy day."

She smiled, "Yes. Very. I have another busy day planned tomorrow. I should pay my brother a visit."

"Do give the weasel my regards," Charlotte said facetiously. She asked, "Have you heard from Sophia?"

"No, not yet," she frowned. "I'm sure she'll write soon."

"She will," Charlotte said supportively.

Nancy came in, observed the rum, and took a glass with a nod of approval. As she was drinking, Isabella said to her, "The meat at dinner wasn't venison, it was actually a previous dinner guest."

Nancy froze mid-drink and Charlotte snorted slightly. After a moment, Nancy finished the drink and refilled her glass. She looked at Isabella and said with a completely straight face, "I'd be too stringy, eat Mags."

Charlotte laughed and motioned for more rum. 

"Did you hear that, Margaret?" Jonas asked her from the doorway. "Lady Fitz is planning to cook you."

"I'd like to see her try," Margaret responded.

"We only just finished eating," Mr. North came into the room.

"You are an exceptional hostess," Mr. Young bowed slightly to Isabella. "But I'll be taking my leave for the evening."

"It was wonderful of you to join us." She got up and allowed Margaret to take the chair and control of the rum. Jacob sat on her lap, and Isabella saw Mr. Young to the door.

Before he exited, he said, "I doubt you can persuade her, considering her daughter's condition, but I'll be returning to America at the end of the week, and I'd like her to come back with me. It's the only way she'll be safe."

"I don't want to add harboring a criminal to my list of immoral deeds, but it is very doubtful that I can convince her to leave Charlotte. I'll keep her as safe as I can here and perhaps she can rejoin you in America once Charlotte has recovered."

She watched as the man's heart sank in front of her. He hung his head and said without hope, "Yes, perhaps." 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter we all needed but never knew we all needed. You're welcome.

"Is there not anyone else that will take us in other than that foul Mrs. May?" Kate asked Lydia as they roamed the market with their cloaks on, looking like beggars. "Is her house truly the last place left in all of London?"

"I've not been good at making friends over the years," Lydia said. "I didn't believe I needed friends, but I do regret this now...for a number of reasons, and not just because we're imprisoned with a musty, old twat."

Kate responded, "You've been very kind to me."

Lydia stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the girl. "I also thought the same of Mrs. May, once upon a time."

"Do you want me to leave you?" Kate asked her. "Sometimes you seem determined to frighten me away. You say these things, but then you don't explain."

Mrs. Quigley did not explain. She didn't even answer. She moved rapidly toward a baker's stall and began looking at pies. "We're going to send Isabella Fitzwilliam and Charlotte Wells pie."

"Pie?" Kate questioned. Of all the things for sale in the market, the woman settled on the pie. The pie didn't even look very good. There was mold on several. "If you wronged them both so severely, are you sure pie is the appropriate apology?"

"Pie is friendly. Pork pie. Savory pork pie," Lydia rattled off.

Kate paused for a moment and watched as the woman hovered over the pie selection and talked to herself. Bedlam had done something to her. She had been in there for a while before being joined by Kate, and if she hadn't been crazy before, the asylum itself had made something come loose in her mind. It didn't happen too often, but when it did it was eerie. It frightened Kate more than Mrs. Quigley's vague warnings about her past injustices and cruelty.

"What did you do to Lady Fitz?" she asked her.

"Extortion." She actually answered. "She has a bastard child she was keeping a secret."

"Oh..."

"Everyone knows about it now. She has ceased to care about discretion. Perhaps a pigeon pie." She pointed. There was a small feather embedded in the crust of one of the pigeon pies.

"Maybe a fruit pie instead," Kate suggested. "A dessert. Less savory. Do you really think this is going to help us?"

"Lady Fitz is letting half of the Greek Street brothel stay in her home. If we can smooth this over..." Lydia mused.

"With pie?" Kate again asked confusedly. "Pie for extortion and whatever maltreatment you committed against Charlotte?"

"This is only the first step," she looked at her and nodded knowingly.

~~~

Two of Lord Fitzwilliam's men led Isabella into the parlor of his sprawling estate. She found him sitting on a sofa with his arms outstretched across the back. Before he could greet her, she said, "What do you want?"

"Nothing at all. You're the one who has shown up at my house this time," a sinister smile crept across his face. "I assumed you wanted something."

"Fine, then. You showed up at the boxing match as well as the next day. What did you want on those two occasions?" She corrected, spitefully.

He answered, looking up at her and smiling all the while, "I merely wanted to drop in on your little gala to see what the hullabaloo was about and then I wanted to check on our dear Charlotte."

"You called the constables," she reminded him. "And tried to spoil my little gala."

"Aren't you glad I did though? Considering the unfortunate incident that occurred. Luckily the constables were there." His smile faded, "I am genuinely sorry about Charlotte. I was quite fond of her."

"You're speaking as if she's lying in state."

He shrugged slightly, "Without the use of her legs, she may as well be. Has her grim future not dawned on either of you yet? I suppose you think that if you take care of her that she'll fall in love with you. It's much easier to have her to yourself if she can't walk, so this works out in your favor, which makes me think you may have been the one to push her."

"Funnily enough, I came here to ask if you had pushed her."

"Why ever would I do that and would I admit it to you if I did?" He sighed and then folded his hands in his lap, "I promise that I didn't enter until after the excitement started."

They looked each other over in a silent and resentful standoff.

"For some reason, I believe you," she admitted, bitterly. "You would admit if you did it. You'd gloat about it."

"Has she not told you what happened?" His curiosity piqued. When she didn't answer him he asked, "Did you receive your gift?" He referred to the painting he had sent to her.

"Yes," she told him.

"I picked it up in my travels and thought you may like it given your particular...proclivities," Harcourt said. "It was meant as an apology for that little spat we had about Sophia. How is Sophia? I hear she ran off with a butler or was it a footman?"

"It doesn't concern you," she snapped at him. It hit a nerve when he mentioned her.

"Alright. Is that all then? I have better things to do than make small-talk with you all afternoon, especially if you won't accept my apology." He seemed genuinely bored with her. He didn't even want to torment her.

"I'll see myself out," Isabella said. She had not pressed Charlotte for the truth of what happened that night but marked her brother from the list of suspects. Remaining on the list were Lydia Quigley and the Pinchers.

~~~

Lady Isabella didn't need to go looking around town for Lydia and Kate as Kate showed up at her home later the same day, carrying two very questionable looking, small pies. A pork pie and an apple pie, supposedly. There was no sign of Lydia, and Isabella brought the mousy girl into the parlor. 

"I'm not sure why Mrs. Quigley insisted on pie," she immediately confessed.

"I'm uncertain as well. I have cooks that can make pie if I want pie, and it will look a lot better than these...things." She pointed to the pies and then had Kate sit them down.

"Pie?" Mr. North materialized from some other wing of the house. "Are these perchance pies from the baker with the market stall? The man missing his thumb?"

Kate nodded.

"Be cautious, Mr. North. They're a bizarre apology gift from Lydia Quigley," Isabella warned. "Possibly poisoned."

"They're not poisoned. She told me to assure you they're not poisoned," Kate said quickly as if she'd forgotten this fact and only just remembered when it was mentioned.

"Sounds like they're poisoned," Isabella stated, flatly.

"There's always a chance that these pies are poisoned...or made from dog. I'll take the risk," Mr. North reached for them and Isabella slapped his hand gently. He pulled away and looked taken aback.

She said, "Explain the pies to me again, Kate."

"They are an apology for her previous wrongdoing to you and Charlotte, and we wanted to apologize for the night of the boxing match." Kate was visibly nervous.

"What do you know of the night of the boxing match?" Isabella asked.

"We came upon Charlotte in the foyer. She had fallen. I sat with her for a moment, but Mrs. Quigley became panicked. She grabbed me and pulled me away...I-I...I had wanted to tell someone. I tried to get to you to tell you she was hurt, but we left. Mrs. Quigley was afraid everyone would blame her, but...I assure you, I was with her. We found Charlotte there alone. I felt horrible and she also felt very badly."

Isabella believed her, but asked, "So...pie?"

Kate laughed a little, "I said the same thing. I think she's...not well."

"She's never been well, per se," she said and pushed the pies toward Mr. North. They really didn't look good at all. "Where are you two staying?"

"With some ancient bawd named Mrs. May."

She cringed and asked, "You're not a virgin are you?"

"No?" Kate answered unsurely.

"Mrs. Quigley used to be known as a procurer of virgins. She sold their virginity to the highest bidder in repulsive Vestal Virgin ceremonies."

"Oh..." She paused, awkwardly. This was obviously new information and had caught her off guard, but she remained true to her course. "She...she asked for me to ask to see Charlotte. She wants to know how she's doing."

Isabella nodded and got up, "Come along." Kate scrambled to her feet and followed. On the way, Isabella asked, "Where exactly did Mrs. Quigley find you?"

"In Bedlam."

"Oh, you're another one involved in the great escape. What were you in for?"

"Um...I was caught having a tumble in the stables and my parents...they..." her voice trailed off.

Isabella turned to her, saddened, and kindly touched her shoulder, "You don't need to say more."

She opened the door to Charlotte's room and showed her inside. Margaret sat in the chair and Nancy at the dressing table. They looked at the unfamiliar girl and Charlotte sat up. She greeted her, "Oh, you...Kate, isn't it?"

Kate nodded, "Miss Wells, I'm sorry."

"No. You did nothing wrong."

"I left you and didn't get help...Mrs. Quigley was afraid she'd be blamed and-"

Margaret and Nancy groaned at once, nearly in unison, and Nancy said, seeming confused, "So this is her new girl?"

"Leave her be," Charlotte said. "I'm not dead, and you damn well know you'd have blamed Mrs. Quigley had I died."

"Fuck's sake, girl," said Nancy, "Your broken legs have made you soft."

She glared at her, "I'm not forgiving that hateful bitch. I'm saying this girl is not Mrs. Quigley, and..." She looked at Kate, "It would be best if you go as far away from her as possible if you have any self-respect whatsoever."

Kate cowered near the door, "She keeps saying much the same thing herself..."

"So she no longer denies that she's a monster? Perhaps her stint in Bedlam did her some good," Nancy grumbled. Margaret remained very quiet, realizing the girl was associated with Mrs. Quigley.

"She sent some apology...um...pies." Kate swallowed nervously.

"Pies from the market?" Charlotte asked. "Where are they?"

"Your Pa is eating them," Isabella told her.

She crossed her arms and pouted, "Of course he is, and there's probably none left already. They're repulsive and the fruit pies taste very much the same as the meat pies. You never know how old they are, sometimes they're old enough to make you drunk off your ass, and sometimes the crust is so hard you can break your teeth, so the crust is really just a bowl used to hold the mysterious filling, but I do enjoy an occasional mystery market pie."

"I'll be damned. She was right about the pie," Kate muttered in disbelief while Isabella began thinking deeply about pie.

"Once I ate one of those pies and then I woke up in a barrel out back of a fancy house in Golden Square," Nancy told them. "I don't remember a damn thing between the pie and the barrel."

"One time I had a cull that blamed eating a large number of those pies on his inability to get his sausage to stand tall," Margaret laughed. 

"Should I be concerned about Mr. North?" Isabella asked them and they all laughed, even Kate who was very confused.

"Will can handle his pies," Nancy told her.

Kate left a while later and went to report to Mrs. Quigley who waited for her down the street. She told her Mr. North ate the pies, Charlotte looked well but was confined to a bed, and Nancy Birch and some other woman named Mrs. Young were keeping her company.

Isabella re-entered the room and asked, "Can my cooks recreate these danger-pies or can they only be purchased across town at this particular market?"

"You don't need to have pie made for me, Isabella, even though you let me Pa eat my dubious apology pie," Charlotte patted the bed next to her. "Plus, I don't think your fancy cooks could ever dream of so incompetently making a pie such that it would even come close to these particularly awful pies. Your cooks would make good quality pies, not poor people pies."

She came and sat next to her, "Shall I go buy you one of these pies then?"

"No, please do not."

"There's a fine art to selecting one of these pies," Nancy told her. "You can't just grab a pie. You have to at least make an effort to find one that isn't too old. You only want the bare minimum amount of mold on the crust."

"This sounds horrifying," Isabella shuttered. "The pies looked horrid, ugliest pies I'd ever seen, but there's no way anything you're saying is true."

"Once I can get out of this bed," Charlotte began and took her hand. "I can get into a wheeled chair and you can push my crippled ass down to the market and I will show you how to pick out the best bad pie."

"I'm going to have good pie prepared for dinner, so you all can experience what a pie is actually supposed to be like. Made from my previous dinner guest, of course."

"If the pies are baked today they won't have any mold at all though," Margaret joked. "You need a little mold."

"They need to sit out in the sun for a while," added Nancy. "The juices have to ferment for a few days."

"Or you could have a huge pie made and we could just eat that same pie for days," said Margaret excitedly. "Put all of your food in it. Fruits, vegetables, meat...all of it. I've heard it's a good way to preserve all of your food."

Isabella looked at them and said, "You're all putting me off pie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I managed to write a chapter almost exclusively about pie before writing a single dirty scene. I've lost control of everything.


	9. Chapter 9

When Isaac Pincher approached Lady Isabella's house, Mr. North was not at the door. He removed his hat and held it politely in front of him. He cleared his throat and then knocked. He hadn't fully thought through what he would do once he got here. He had told Hal he was going for a walk, which he did in fact do, he just ended up walking somewhere that he wasn't supposed to be. Hal thought it was fine because it was better than him sitting and drinking all day.

"I'm here to see Miss Charlotte Wells," he said quietly when the door was opened.

The doorman looked at him, "And who are you again?"

"I'm-I'm..." He tried to think of a fake name but was unprepared for this eventuality. "My name is...Gregory...ah, Gregory..." His silver tongue had at some point been ripped out of his mouth over the course of the past several days.

"Gregory Gregory?" The doorman eyed him and then smirked. He knew exactly who he was. "Wait here, Mr. Pincher."

He didn't have very high hopes for getting in, but he would keep trying. Eventually, they would become annoyed and allow him inside.

The color drained from Charlotte's face when his presence was announced.

"That thick-headed knob!" Nancy stood up and started for the entrance followed by Mr. North and Margaret.

Charlotte rolled her eyes when Isabella looked in her direction. She followed the others out. "Wait," she called after them down the corridor. "Show him into the main parlor. I want to speak to him. Don't kill him, anyone. At least don't kill him at my house, please."

Isaac came inside apprehensively, still holding his hat and averting his eyes from everyone. He said politely with a faint bow, "Good afternoon, Lady Fitzwilliam." He then nodded, "Mr. North and Miss Birch..." He added confusedly, "And Mrs. Young?"

"Friend of the family," Margaret commented and took a seat at the table, glaring at him. "Perhaps you shouldn't try to burn down houses. You never know who is friends with whom."

"I...I was unaware," he said timidly. He cleared his throat and looked toward the lady of the house, "I'd like to see Charlotte." He felt like Isabella was his best bet for sympathy and he added, "Please. For only a moment."

"What business do you have with Charlotte, Mr. Pincher?" Isabella asked. She stood in front of him between him and the others.

"I would just like to speak with her," he answered. "Regarding a private matter."

"Are you completely daft?" Nancy asked him, stepping closer. "Do you not remember our conversation just the other day? I think it involved your cock if I'm not mistaken."

"I do recall, yes," he spoke very quietly. "But I need to speak with her. I mean no harm."

"I wonder if the lady is in the market for a new door knocker," Nancy looked at Isabella.

Although unsure what she referred to, she went along with her and said, "Yes. I could use one."

He swallowed forcefully and said again, "Please, I would just like to speak with Charlotte for a moment."

"Regarding what sort of private matter?" Lady Fitz asked and raised a hand to silence Nancy before she could respond again. 

"I would like to a-a-apologize..." He stammered and seemed very small, completely unlike the Isaac Pincher she'd met before.

The dramatic shift in his demeanor, prompted her to question, "May I ask what you've done with the real Mr. Pincher? The self-important young man that was here before."

"He had a change of heart," he cowered before her.

"Mr. North, would you mind going to see if Charlotte wants to speak with him?" Isabella asked. He nodded and she said to Isaac, "She didn't seem very interested when she heard you were here."

"What?" Nancy seemed a bit appalled that she even considered it.

She turned to her, "I promised not to deny any friends of Charlotte and he seems earnest, does he not? We will ask Charlotte in case she does want to hear whatever it is he has to say."

"He's no friend of Charlotte," she sneered. "The little prick burned Greek Street and could have killed me and Kitty."

He made no attempt to deny the accusation and remained there, holding his hat, looking at his feet. "I would like to apologize to her," he said. "For-"

"Words don't pay for repairs," Nancy snapped at him. "Words don't pay for lost income and lost savings."

Isaac then looked toward Mrs. Wells and he said, "If my brother and I can find a new investment I promise to pay her reparations from our first profits."

Margaret studied him expressionlessly, but then said, "I will not speak to Jonas on behalf of an arsonist pimp, and his brother who-"

Nancy shot her a glare and she silenced immediately.

"I understand, Mrs. Young," he responded.

Nancy pried at him, "How would that brother of yours feel about that, eh?" 

"My brother needn't know how I choose to spend my share of our profits," he said with some slight surety.

Isabella was becoming more and more suspicious of Isaac Pincher. Not only of the mysterious private matter and apology he wanted to speak to Charlotte about but of the source of his sudden change in personality. Was it because of Charlotte's accident and he regretted acting like a childish prick or was there something more? She had a gnawing suspicion that there was more. She also had a feeling that Margaret and Nancy knew it while she did not. She'd noticed the look Nancy gave Margaret and her immediately holding her tongue. She was very accustomed to watching people at galas rather than actually participating in the tepid conversation.

"Charlotte does not wish to see you today," Mr. North said, rejoining them.

Isaac looked genuinely disappointed. He didn't argue or attempt to persuade any of them. He bowed to Lady Isabella then turned to leave. Nancy followed him distrustfully to make certain he left and Mr. North went to the door to stand watch in case he came back.

"May I have a moment, Mrs. Wells...or Mrs. Young?" Isabella approached Margaret cautiously as she began back toward the guest quarters. "I'm unsure which is correct. I'm very sorry."

"Margaret is fine. Did you stop me to ask me what name I prefer?"

"No," she answered with a slight laugh. "I wanted to ask what you think of him."

"He's a scumbag pimp," she said nonchalantly. "He's up to something."

She nodded in agreement, "Any thoughts about what?"

"No. He seemed a completely different person than when I met him with Jonas. He was quite likable then."

Isabella found it interesting that Isaac Pincher had so many faces, "When I first met him he was atrocious. Not likable, by any means, but also not this."

"Do you truly believe in his sincerity?" Margaret then asked her curiously.

"Not at all," she answered. Margaret seemed pleased with her response and then returned to Charlotte. Isabella waited for Nancy to come back inside. She asked, "What did Charlotte tell you about how she fell?"

"What did she tell you?" Nancy repeated her question back to her, which practically confirmed that Charlotte had told her something different.

"Utter nonsense about escaping the noise and carelessly falling over," she told her. "I don't believe it, but I haven't bothered her about it since."

Nancy looked at Lady Isabella for a moment, mulling over how to respond, before saying, "She was trying to break up a squabble between the Pinchers. The dark one accidentally knocked her over when she was trying to pull him off of the wily one."

"I suppose that could have been part of why he showed up here wanting to apologize," she pondered aloud.

Nodding, Nancy said, "Aye, seems he feels bad for it...or he's up to something. I trust him as far as I can throw him."

Her brow furrowed, "Why wouldn't Charlotte tell me that?"

"Perhaps she thought you would do something...rash?" Nancy suggested, half-jokingly. There was nothing rash about Lady Fitz that she'd ever noticed.

Isabella made a disappointed face, knowing that not to be true at all. There was still more to this, but she wasn't sure Nancy would give it to her. She said, "I'm sure she has her reasons. They're just completely lost on me."

"Isabella," Nancy said quickly and stopped her as she began to leave.

She turned back and Nancy said nothing. She pressed her, "Yes?"

"Charlotte has an impulsive streak. She gets it from her Ma," Nancy spat out quickly as if it were a secret.

"I know," she said with a raised eyebrow, unsure the direction the conversation was taking.

"And she's got a big heart," she added.

"I am aware..." Isabella continued to be unsure what Nancy was getting at.

Nancy sighed, "Sometimes it's at odds with her line of work, and she's not had the best examples to live by." She winced and rubbed her temples, "I'm not sure what I'm trying to say to you, but I am trying to tell you something, I swear."

"Come, sit," Isabella guided her over to the nearest sofa. 

"You must be patient with Charlotte," Nancy chose her words carefully. "Which I think you are," she quickly added. "She doesn't...well, none of us do...none of us really know what to do when people are kind."

"I honestly don't know what to do either," she confessed to her and smiled slightly.

Nancy smiled faintly back at her, "Her job...what she does, it requires certain skills, you see, and a certain...distance."

"I'm well aware of her occupation, and that she's very good at it, but I am not her job. I'm sure others believe that I pay for her affections, but I-"

"I know you're not like the rest of 'em, and I know that Charlotte cares for you very much," Nancy said quickly to reassure her. "What I'm trying to say is that she doesn't know how to care for people quite correctly at times, but what the fuck do I know about doing anything correctly?" She was getting extremely frustrated with herself and inability to communicate whatever it was she was attempting to communicate. Nancy had previously always been very good with words.

Isabella placed a hand lightly on her arm, "Do you think that I do?" She laughed a little, "I only know how to solve problems by throwing money at them. The only way I know how to show affection is to buy things and pay for things. It's all my father ever did."

"It's why you keep feeding us and letting us stay here," she stated.

Isabella nodded, "I'd have paid for the whole of Greek Street's repairs had Charlotte asked. She likes to do things her way, and I've given what she'll let me, which I don't ever feel is enough."

"You really are a good person," Nancy seemed a little alarmed suddenly like it had just truly dawned on her.

"I don't know," she laughed. "I really haven't the slightest idea if I'm doing anything right. I just want to be free of this whole charade...all of this politeness, this-"

Nancy cut her off, "Spend enough time with us and we can fix the politeness."

"I've no doubt."

"Not to give you a big head about it, but you've made great strides," Nancy said. "I don't know of another rich twat I'd sit and talk to without charging at least a few quid for my time."

"I'll give you a few quid if you need it," she joked.

"And I'd throw it back in your face." They laughed together for a moment before Nancy became serious again, "Charlotte is going to hurt you. She won't mean to or want to, but she will."

Isabella looked long at Nancy before she asked, "What's she done?"

"It's not my place to tell you, else I would." Nancy got up. She feared if she continued talking that she would, in fact, tell her. She'd let it slip right out just like how she told Margaret that Isaac set the brothel on fire, which set the whole chain of events into motion that had Charlotte laid up in a bed with two broken legs.

"I love her," Lady Fitz said abruptly.

"Careful, Isabella. They'll lock you up in Bedlam for that."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has apparently turned into a historical fiction novel. I'm sorry or you're welcome, depending on what camp you're in.

Lucy and Elizabeth sat at a table with their books. Lucy was immensely bored with the numbers. She slumped forward, twirling a lock of her hair, and made a suggestion that was purely in jest, "Perhaps Lady Fitz would be interested in buying out Mrs. May?"

Elizabeth laughed, "She's likely to agree if you asked her."

"I know," Lucy didn't want to take advantage of the woman, not really.

"She would be investing a high-end tailor not a molly house, of course," Elizabeth pointed out. She was legitimately intrigued by the prospect. "And she'd be a silent partner that actually remained silent."

"Charlotte would rip me to pieces if I asked such a thing of her...her...whatever they are."

"Charlotte is bed-ridden, just move out of her reach." Quickly, Elizabeth apologized, "I'm sorry. That wasn't very funny."

Lucy laughed, "No, it's alright. She's in good spirits...or perhaps it's the laudanum. Also, it was a valid point."

"We'd cut her in on some of the profits. She'd stay out of our hair and solve the entire Mrs. May problem. I find that woman repulsive and find Lady Isabella rather the opposite. She also has glorious connections." She handed Lucy a newspaper from her side of the table, "Have you seen this? She's a hero among the poor and she's all the rich are talking about. No one is really sure what to make of her."

She observed the post, "And I am still in Charlotte's shadow, even when she's confined to a bed at St. James's."

"Speaking of siblings, what of Isabella's brother? I know there is bad blood between them, but she wouldn't tell me the extent of it." Elizabeth was very obviously curious. "She is endlessly intriguing."

Lucy looked up slowly, "He's an awful man with horrid friends. Although I'm not certain of what happened with Isabella. I'm sure Charlotte knows."

"So he's the opposite of his darling sister?"

"Yes," she said and went back to the paper. "Do you know how deep her coffers are?"

"She lives in the most modest of the Blayne houses by far, but she was previously at the largest estate with her brother, was she not?"

Lucy shrugged unsurely, "I think so."

"Her inheritance was more than substantial and the upkeep of the smaller estate is less," Elizabeth pondered while gazing intensely at the numbers on the page. "She had only her daughter to support."

"Charlotte's upkeep though," Lucy reminded her. "My sister is notoriously expensive and is a notorious gambler."

"Are we sure she's been paying Charlotte in the...uh, conventional sense, so to speak? I mean, I understand she has been paying expenses now, but their dynamic didn't strike me as such."

"I'm not certain of anything. I do know Charlotte had been having some sort of dalliance with Isaac Pincher though." The newspaper was much more interesting than the accounting of their businesses. She put up her feet and began reading about the other happenings, only half-listening to Mrs. Harvey.

"You're certain?" Elizabeth looked up. "After he tried to burn down your house?"

"It's what she told me." She shrugged, "I'd personally not want to fuck someone that set my house on fire but to each their own. Charlotte sometimes does things that make absolutely no sense to me."

"Does Lady Isabella know this?" She asked and propped her elbow on the table then rested her chin in her hand and waited for Lucy's response.

"Apparently not." Lucy considered telling Miss Harvey about the circumstances surrounding Charlotte's fall, and then she decided against it. 

"Oh, my..." After a short pause, she said, "Let's ask her to buy out Mrs. May before something goes awry. The worst that can happen is she declines and then we must find someone else or kill the old hag." 

~~~

Isaac showed up at St. James's a second time. Again, he politely removed his hat and asked, "I was wondering if perhaps Charlotte would see me today."

The doorman disappeared inside for several minutes and returned only to shake his head and say, "No, Miss Wells does not wish to see you."

This time Isabella did not allow him inside. He returned to Saracen's Head and Hal asked, "Where have you been?"

"I went for a walk," Isaac said and glared at Emily, who sat next to Hal. His brother's whore seemed to know everything somehow.

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but closed it and remained silent for once. She did know where he'd been, but there was no need to make the brothers fight when they were just now getting along again. So now she had two secrets since she knew Mrs. Young was actually Mrs. Wells. Isaac seemed to think there was still a way to salvage the deal, but with Mrs. Wells in Jonas' ear, she didn't think it possible. She especially didn't think it possible with Hal having nearly killed Charlotte - accident or no. Nancy knew, which meant Margaret knew, which meant she would never let Jonas sell to them now even if she could somehow be persuaded after the arson. Then it dawned on her that perhaps there was a way. If she told Hal, she would prove herself to be a valuable asset.

Reviving the land deal would solve everything, except Isaac's pining for Charlotte, that is. It might provide him with a distraction though.

Hal asked him incredulously, "Walking? Again?"

"Can a man not enjoy a leisurely stroll?" Isaac retorted. "It's good for one's spirits."

Emily held her tongue again. It was very difficult for her not to make snide remarks about his infatuation with Charlotte. She thought him a complete buffoon for it.

Hal eyed him and then motioned to one of the tavern whores. He said to his brother, "I know something else good for the spirits." Then he looked at the woman, "Take my brother upstairs and get the crippled Wells girl off his mind. I don't believe walking clears his mind quite enough."

Isaac angered, "I've no interest-"

"Go," Hal commanded them both. "This one has the use of her legs."

He put up a bit of a fight but eventually skulked upstairs. He didn't feel like being around Hal any more than Hal desired his company.

"I can no longer think with him around," Hal said. "Things are lost with Mr. Young, so I need to find other prospects. Maybe another tavern? Not a low-end tavern." He flipped through the paper looking at ads, more or less talking to himself, "That damned fool, Isaac. I meant for him to make peace with Miss Wells, not burn her house. If he'd started fucking her sooner..."

"Why don't you just go on without him? Leave him? You're the smart one." She tried to gently urge him to abandon his kin. It was worth a shot before she encouraged him to resort to blackmail. She knew he wouldn't, although he was the one with all of the brains. Hal was the one that would make her rich, and Isaac was at best unstable but with a nice face.

"He's my brother," Hal said coldly. "And I need him. No one wants to do business with some unknown's bastard."

"What about me?" She meant it as a joke.

He looked up from the paper, "An unknown's bastard and his chatty whore, a pair of savvy business people rising to the top, yes." He smiled a little and added, "Thank you for seeing sense and returning. I missed you. Truly. I'm sorry for how I acted. I don't know why my brother thinks you're a pest. Sometimes I do want to strangle you, but you are a delight."

She sat down on his knee and moved the paper aside. She cupped his face in her hands, "Charlotte Wells has some sort of magic cunny. Your brother isn't the first fool to think he's fallen in love with her, and I have an idea that may help with the situation with Mr. Young."

"He fixates on things... lets them vex him when they shouldn't. Always has. It really buggered things up this time. First, with his god damn trying to destroy her then with this being in love nonsense."

Emily began playing with his ear lobes with her thumbs, "Yes, now let me tell you of my idea."

Hal grunted disapprovingly, not of Emily, but of his train of thought. He wasn't listening to her at all. "He thought he was in love once before and it ended poorly."

"It'll end poorly for him this time too, I'm sure. Charlotte uses people until she's done with them, and I think she's done with him now after the accident." Emily began to grow frustrated that Hal wasn't responding to her advances nor her brilliant idea, and seemed to only want to discuss his brother. It was sweet of him to worry so much about the idiot, but she wanted his attention.

"Not for him...for the girl," Hal said, very grimly. "It probably would've been best if Charlotte Wells had died after all now that I think about it." Her hands dropped from his face and he finally seemed to notice her on his lap, "No matter. Now, what was that idea?"

"I've forgotten," she said quickly. "Silly me. I also forgot I had an appointment today."

~~~

Mrs. May sent for Lydia to have tea with her. Lydia obliged because she didn't particularly have the ability to refuse. As soon as she took the seat across from Mrs. May at the small table, the woman said, "Charlotte Wells didn't die, so you can cease being in mourning now. I need you to prepare your girl for an outing tonight. I hope she's ready because if she isn't, I will put you both out tomorrow."

"Thank you for skipping over any semblance of pleasantries," said Lydia, taking a sip of her tea.

"You are welcome. The Marquess of Blayne is back in London and is throwing what promises to be a grand soiree tonight. You and he used to get along swimmingly, did you not?"

Lydia's eyes narrowed, "He let me be thrown into Bedlam, but prior to that...yes."

"Did you know he'd returned?" Mrs. May asked and Lydia could tell she already knew the answer so there was no point in attempting to lie.

"I was aware, yes." She desperately needed to escape this house.

"And you didn't feel this was pertinent knowledge to pass along to me?" Mrs. May glared at her.

She took a long sip of her tea while staring down the older woman, "As I said, he let me be thrown into Bedlam. He could have prevented it. As far as I'm concerned, that isn't very good for maintaining a business relationship."

"Let bygones be bygones. He's interested in that doe-eyed thing you have following you around." She noisily sipped her own tea, knowing it would grate on Lydia's nerves when she did so.

Lydia winced, "Sometimes girls he's interested in disappear."

"Then let's hope you're not too attached to this one in case she never returns, yes?" Mrs. May made more gratuitous slurping noises.

"You truly have no heart. Did you ever, I wonder?" Lydia asked, spitefully.

"People say the same of you, Lydia. Now finish your tea and prepare your girl." She pointed to her with her teacup, "And prepare yourself. I can't have you going to see the Marquess looking like you came from Bedlam...although you did come from Bedlam. That wig is hideous, and you need to do your makeup properly. You look like a hedge whore." Lydia thought she was done talking, but she started up again, "If you happen to see a Mrs. Elizabeth Harvey at this event or if Lucy Wells makes an appearance, tell them I expect to see my profits by the end of the week."

Lydia realized quickly what this meant, "You invested in my house in Golden Square?"

"It's a nice house and a good location. Elizabeth Harvey is Bette Harper. Have you heard of her?" Mrs. May seemed infinitely amused by these revelations. She could see the rage and dismay battling for dominance in her eyes as she tried so desperately to maintain her composure.

"She ran a molly house...my God, my house has become a molly house," Lydia said in disbelief. She needed to get out of this house and get back into her house.

"I didn't really expect you to break out of Bedlam, so don't be upset with me." She didn't really care at all if Lydia was upset with her and began laughing after uttering the words. She ceased her joviality with a rattling cough and noisy sip of tea, "All the more reason for you to look presentable."

"I've no interest in running your errands, especially when they pertain to my house that you snatched out from under me," she said between her teeth.

"Then get out of my house, take yourself and your girl down to Saracen's Head and join those poxy tavern whores."

Lydia slammed down her cup and got up from the table. She stood over Mrs. May and said, "You are an abhorrent nightmare."

"Better to be a nightmare, dear, than not dreamt of at all." The old woman's mouth curled into a hateful smile before she let out a cackle. Lydia then went back upstairs to take the news to Kate that they would be attending a gala that they'd actually been invited to this time.

~~~

Margaret, Lucy, Mr. North, and Nancy sat in Charlotte's room together and chatted over gin about how Margaret should leave with Mr. Young and return to America.

"I'll be alright, Ma. I'll write you," Charlotte told her. "It isn't safe for you to be in London and you can't stay holed up with me here forever."

"I'm your Ma and I'm staying to take care of you," she said stubbornly. She felt like her own daughters were trying to be rid of her.

"I'm right as rain. I'll visit you when I'm better," Charlotte told her. 

"We'll have to sneak you everywhere," Lucy pointed out. "And we're all in danger for harboring you, Ma."

Margaret became increasingly upset, "You two really don't want me here, do you?"

"What are you going to do in this house all the time?" Mr. North joined in. "You're already going stir crazy."

"Even you, Will?" Margaret was appalled. They were all turning on her.

He looked down at his hands, "I want you to be alive, Margaret. Alive is better than dead. I want all of us to be safe."

"What about you Nancy?" Margaret nagged her for her input since she hadn't spoken up.

She shook her head, "I've missed you and you know that, but you staying is-"

"So the whole lot of you want me to leave again after I worked so hard to get back here?" She angrily took a drink and then said, "We're done having this conversation. I'm not going back with Jonas. I'm staying right here. I've decided." She pulled the small pistol from within her coat and brandished it for them, "I have this for protection."

"Who the fuck gave Ma a gun?" Charlotte asked, angrily and shocked.

"Why do you have a gun, Mags? You shouldn't have a gun." Nancy insisted and got up to take it from her.

Mr. North's head hung and Lucy's eyes were wide. Margaret did not hand the gun over and tucked it away again.

The room became awkwardly silent with everyone just looking at one another. When the intensity subsided enough, Nancy said to Charlotte, "Char, you need to tell Isabella what happened when you fell. You need to tell her you were fucking the Pincher boy. Get it out of the way."

"She can't," Margaret said. "She'll put her out. She'll put us all out."

"She will not," Nancy said and then to Charlotte again, "Do you think that? I don't."

"She struck gold with this one," Margaret said to Nancy.

"Ma!" Charlotte yelled and there was a collective groan.

"What?" She put her hands up, "I meant that Lady Isabella-"

"Stop it, Ma," Lucy chimed in again and did not confess that she was planning to ask Isabella for a hell of a favor.

Nancy said, "Pig's tits, Mags. I know you want the best for your children, but-"

"Never you all mind," Margaret got up and didn't let her finish. "I'm going for a walk."

"Inside, I hope," Charlotte reminded her as she stepped out of the room. Then she yelled, "You can't go outside and don't shoot anyone!"

"She means well," Mr. North told them all. They all knew this, but sometimes it helped to say it aloud.

"Tell her, Charlotte," Nancy said to her again. "The secret is what'll come between you, not what you did."

She rolled her eyes and the nurse entered for her daily prodding. This was a great relief. The conversation had not been far less than riveting. The wiry woman carried a wooden contraption with her and announced with overwhelming excitement, "Your left leg is healing well and we can expedite the healing even more, so today we're going to put it in a fracture box!"

~~~

That evening after everyone dispersed to the other guest quarters, Isabella sat alone with Charlotte. "Before my father died," she said to her. "He was also bed-ridden and he kept getting bedsores."

Charlotte smiled at her and said, "My, my, that's very romantic, your ladyship."

"I was merely sharing a fact," she also smiled. "You won't be still like the doctor said and I think it has prevented them."

"I hold still enough. It hurts something ghastly when I move, so I'm not inclined to move a great deal, you know." She wiggled around a bit to demonstrate, "Speaking of bedsores though, my ass really is starting to hurt tonight. I think it's this damned box. I'll get bedsores now because of that fucking thing."

Isabella looked at the wooden device that the nurse used to elevate Charlotte's leg. Her left leg had only been broken below the knee and the doctor had removed the full-leg splints and replaced them to only isolate the affected part of her leg. Her lower leg was now suspended by straps in a bulky wooden frame. The elevation would hasten the healing, the nurse said.

"You're not going to get bedsores. I won't let you," Isabella told her.

"Are you enjoying taking care of me?" Asked Charlotte.

"Not particularly, no," she answered honestly. "But I'm going to until you're well again."

"You think I'll be well again then?"

Isabella poured them both a glass of gin, "Perhaps not completely well, but the doctor isn't being as morose, and I think you're certainly headstrong enough that this won't stop you."

Taking the drink, Charlotte thought about telling her about Isaac and about the accident. She was afraid Isabella would ask her why, and she didn't know why. She didn't know why at all. Why she couldn't keep her hands off of him, and then why she let it happen in this very house on that night. It had been fun at first - the sneaking, she supposed. They had no secrets between them so Charlotte created one, and then it turned into this, which was not at all her intention. Broken legs and what would surely be Isabella's broken heart were not anything she had considered. She hadn't thought very far into the future at all, about anything.

Instead of telling her, she said, "I want to change my chemise and I feel filthy."

"I'll get you a fresh one and send for-"

Charlotte cut her off, "I want you to do it. I miss being intimate with you, and this is as close as we can get right now, is it not?"

"I didn't believe you wanted me to see you..." She hesitated to think of the right words, "Broken and less than perfect."

"Fuck my pride. I'm not perfect and I don't care how you see me as long as you don't care." She asked for confirmation, "Do you care?"

"Of course not," she shook her head. "It's not as if I haven't seen you before."

"Very well then," Charlotte sat up and carefully maneuvered around to rearrange the many pillows on the bed to prepare for this half-assed bathing she was doomed with for several more weeks. I had been quite humiliating at first, but those feelings had since vanished. She also quite liked the idea of Isabella doing it, the more she thought about it.

Isabella sent for a sponge, towels, and rosewater in a basin and retrieved fresh garments from the wardrobe then locked the door. Charlotte untied the top of her chemise and pulled it off over her head with only one pained whimper. Isabella wanted to help her but watched quietly instead until she got it off and tossed it aside. There was a large bruise over much of the right side of her back, all purple and blue still. She sat next to her on the bed and kissed her bare shoulder. Charlotte turned her head and guided Isabella's lips to her mouth. 

"I'm very afraid of hurting you," Isabella confessed to her after a few minutes of apprehensive kisses.

"Don't be," Charlotte touched her cheek. "Sometimes I don't think I deserve you."

Isabella ran her fingers down her back, careful to dodge the bruising. "I don't care what you think this time."

She helped her pin her hair up and then began sponging the warm, scented water over her skin. They didn't speak much and Isabella paid attention to Charlotte's every muscle twitch and wince so as not to cause her any great pain. She had other smaller bruises here and there that she minded carefully. She periodically kissed her flesh after passing over it with the towel. When she finished, Charlotte lay back with a relaxed sigh and stretched out her arms across the bed. The scene would have been irresistible to Isabella if not for her legs, which saddened her with their bruises and swelling and everything holding the bones in place. She sighed as well, not a relaxed sigh, but a frustrated, disappointed sigh, and she casually traced one of her Charlotte's hip bones with her thumb. She leaned over her and kissed her left thigh, being very careful to avoid the other with its fracture. 

She felt Charlotte's hand on her arm encouragingly and progressed her kisses up to her hip and then her stomach. She looked up and saw her eyes closed and a slight smile on her lips. She cupped her breasts and laid kisses up between them to her collar bone. The rosewater left her tasting sweet and floral. She dipped her head back down and took one of her nipples in her mouth. Charlotte's body tensed and Isabella felt her hands on the back of her neck, her fingers tangling in her hair. She moved her kisses again up her chest and neck.

Charlotte then tapped her shoulder and whispered, "Quit teasing. We're doomed to celibacy for the time being."

Isabella conceded and said in her ear, "I went years, I suppose I'll survive for now."

With a laugh, Charlotte kissed her cheek and said, "Help me dress. When I don't feel like a carriage has run over my legs you can sit on my face."

"That's quite obscene," she smirked and sat up. "But you have a deal. Do you want medicine for the pain or another drink?"

"Another drink." She wanted to suffer a bit and punish herself for taking the woman in front of her so severely for granted.


	11. Chapter 11

Cherry Dorrington had yet to pay a visit to Charlotte. If Fanny thought she felt out of place at St. James's, Cherry felt like she'd landed on another planet and the inhabitants were both fascinated and horrified by her sudden appearance in their midst. Although extremely curious about the whole situation with Charlotte and this high-class lady, she actually had not planned to visit Charlotte. It wasn't as if they were close. She went to visit because Lydia Quigley found her and gave her a handful of coins and some bizarre instructions.

She'd heard that Lydia had been one of the ones to escape Bedlam, but she didn't quite believe it until she saw her in the flesh. She was dressed in fine clothes beneath a dingy cloak and being followed around by some doe-eyed girl named Kate, also in fine clothes beneath a raggedy cloak. Lydia looked almost put-together and almost herself, but something was off. Cherry couldn't put her finger on it. She figured Bedlam did that to people, even that tough old broad.

"My favorite impling," Lydia greeted her with one of her giant, deranged smiles. "I have a very important job for you."

"So you are out of the asylum!" She exclaimed. "I didn't think it true. Also, I'm your only impling. At least I hope so."

"I would love to catch up with you and tell you all about my adventures, but Kate and I have some important business to attend to this evening." At this point, she dropped the coin into her hands and gave her the instructions. Then she vanished like a ghost into the crowd with her girl. Cherry could have just kept all of the coin and gone about her day, but the instructions were so odd, she wanted to see where they led.

Arriving at Lady Fitzwilliam's house was actually the third step in the series of steps that Cherry needed to complete. She carried a large bundle of flowers, almost too large for her to hold onto while knocking on the door. She couldn't reach the door-knocker, so she had to maneuver around to rap the door with her knuckles. She dropped a few flowers in the process and also lost a few on the way, but she couldn't be bothered.

Mr. North answered and luckily looked down before closing the door. He was barely able to see Cherry for the floral bundle. He asked, "What have we here?"

"I've brought flowers for Charlotte, Mr. North," she said and peaked between some of the blooms. There were wildflowers and lavender, roses, daisies, and poppies. "They are from everyone on Greek Street and in Covent Garden, I think. That's why there are so many." This was not untrue entirely. A fair number were more or less from Lydia and were purchased with some of the coinage she'd given Cherry. Cherry had then been instructed to persuade others to contribute flowers to the bundle under the pretense that a lot of people already had done so. She didn't expect quite the outpouring that resulted from this and had not anticipated having to carry this absurd bouquet all the way to St. James's.

"Do people think she's died?" He was stunned and amused by the quantity and that Cherry brought them all. 

"No, they are get well flowers," she told him.

Lady Isabella stepped up behind him and said, "Where is..." Then she saw her a few feet down, "Oh. My goodness, that's a lot of flowers."

"This is Cherry Dorrington and many flowers," he told her.

"Let her in," Isabella instructed. "And let's find some vases for some of these. We can make arrangements."

"By 'we' I hope you mean your attendants because I don't know the first thing about flower arrangements," he said to her.

"You know when I meant," she responded.

Cherry gazed up at her, "You're much taller than I expected."

Isabella knelt down and took the flowers off of her hands, "You sound surprised."

"Your ladyship, did you just mock my height and imply that everyone is taller than me?" Cherry asked her, acting taken aback.

She looked immediately hurt and sincerely apologized, "No...oh, dear. I'm so sorry if I've offended."

Cherry's serious face turned into a wide smile. She hadn't expected the sophisticated woman to actually apologize to her for anything, ever. She hadn't expected her to speak to her at all really. "It's alright, my lady. It was a joke."

"Be nice, Cherry," Mr. North said and then, "Would you like to see Charlotte?"

She nodded and they left Isabella standing in the parlor with all of the flowers.

Cherry had two assignments from Mrs. Quigley once inside of Lady Fitzwilliam's house. The first was to make sure Charlotte was alright. The second was to take stock of some woman named Mrs. Young if she were present. Mrs. Young was not present, but Mrs. Wells was.

"Little Cherry!" She exclaimed and approached her with outstretched arms.

"A ghost!" Cherry shouted, but ran and threw her arms around her neck.

~~~

Lord Fitzwilliam wanted to have a party to make everyone stop talking about his insufferable sister's event. He didn't intend for any injuries greater than drunken toe-stubbing at his gala though. He would outdo her with extravagance and let her have all of her scandals. He had invited everyone of import from lords to governors. He would have refreshments and refined entertainment. Guests would begin arriving in the afternoon and would stay until late evening without disturbance from the constables, and it would be an absolutely glorious affair.

Mrs. Quigley was welcomed warmly, much more warmly than she had anticipated. She bowed to Harcourt and Kate followed her lead.

"You look radiant, my High Priestess!" The Marquess announced and then to Kate, "And you are an exquisite jewel! Come inside!"

Lydia couldn't be the High Priestess without her house and without any girls. She had only Kate and she didn't want him to have Kate. Maybe some other man here was worthy. Maybe. Not him though. Never him again. She was only here to quiet Mrs. May and to stop her from throwing them out onto the street.

"Go and mingle," Harcourt said to her. "You used to love mingling."

"I do love mingling." She gave him a closed-lip smile. She loved mingling when she had something to offer, but now she had nothing. She belonged to Mrs. May as she had many years before. She hadn't felt so small and powerless in decades. She felt like a common whore under the thumb of a cruel bawd again. She'd forgotten how awful it was, and a sudden wave of regret came pouring over her. She had completely, utterly forgotten what it was like to not be a bawd. She made a solemn vow to herself to never forget again if she ever got her house back.

"Hello? Mrs. Quigley?" Lord Fitzwilliam snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Are you in there?"

She'd drifted off into thought. She smiled again at him as best as she could muster, "Yes. Yes, of course. Let me mingle."

She made no effort to move. She stared past Harcourt and watched the people in all of their brightly colored, fine clothes, raising their glasses in toasts to this and that, laughing their false laughs at their stupid jokes, and playing their grand game of pretend. He cocked his head to the side and looked at Kate. He spoke of Lydia as if she wasn't still standing right there in front of him - in a way, she wasn't - and he said, "I'm a bit worried about her." 

Kate forced a smile of her own and linked her arm with Mrs. Quigley's at the elbow, "No need to worry, my lord. She's quite alright, just tired. We've been very busy."

"I see," he eyed Mrs. Quigley and then refocused on Kate again, "May I offer you a drink? I have fine wines from Italy and France."

"No, thank y-" she started to answer.

"Yes, yes drinks," Lydia told him very quickly. "Please, get us both drinks."

He looked her over once more and then said hospitably, "

Lydia didn't know what he was playing at, but she didn't like it. Why was he being so repulsively pleasant to her? The moment he turned his back to them to flag down the wine for them, she whispered to Kate, "We need to leave this place."

Yet again, Mrs. Quigley began pulling Kate away from a party. Kate reminded her, "But you agreed to come here for Mrs. May."

"She can go fuck herself." Lydia continued smiling and nodding to people as they made their way out. A few people recognized her and tried to stop her to ask how she'd been, how Bedlam was, what she was doing these days now that she was homeless, and other such things she had no interest in discussing with anyone much less these fopwits.

"Where will we go?" Kate also attempted to smile at people while holding this conversation. She hoped they didn't look suspicious, but she was certain they did.

They slipped out the way they'd come in, and she answered, "There are taverns. They have rooms. We'll get a room."

Kate stopped her when they reached the edge of the estate, "But we haven't got any money. You gave the last of your coin to Cherry." Then it dawned on her, "Can't we stay with Cherry? She seems to like you and seems nice enough."

"Cherry has no home either at the moment, but if she played her cards right she may have at least been put up on a sofa at St. James's for tonight. And besides..." Lydia pulled herself free of Kate and bent down into the bushes where they'd discarded their cloaks. She handed Kate hers and then tossed her own over her shoulders, "I've got some coin left. I've been stealing from Mrs. May since we got there. We've enough for several nights and we'll rendezvous with Cherry tomorrow to collect the fruits of our labor."

Kate pulled her cloak on and asked, "Why must we keep sneaking around in these cloaks exactly? It's been days and no effort has been made to return us to Bedlam. Who are we hiding from?"

Lydia gave her no answer. "Come now. This will be over soon enough."

Kate wasn't sure what exactly Mrs. Quigley thought the fruits of their labor with Cherry would be. She was very unclear on the point of Cherry's special assignment in general. She was very unclear about a lot of things. As they walked the dark streets in search of a tavern, she remained quiet. She thought she was going to learn the art of becoming a courtesan under Lydia's tutelage, but she'd learned nothing of the sort. She followed Mrs. Quigley around London as she erratically ran errands for Mrs. May or she remained in the room Mrs. May had permitted them to use. She'd not had an encounter with a single man. Sometimes Mrs. Quigley encouraged her and then a moment later would decide against it.

"This place will do," Lydia said outside of Saracen's.

When they stepped inside, Emily immediately yelled from the bar, "Get out of here, bitch!"

Lydia looked up at the ceiling and asked, "Why God did you let me walk into the same tavern as Emily Lacey?" 

"Another girl you wronged in the past, I presume?" Kate asked her.

~~~

"How much would it be?" Isabella asked Mrs. Harvey and Lucy.

Elizabeth's jaw dropped, in awe at how easy it was to get Lady Fitz on board with their plan. She'd prepared a persuasive speech that she didn't have to utter a word of. Lucy took over the conversation, "You'd be buying out someone that gave a loan to Mrs. Harvey and-."

"Lucy, I know you're running a brothel fronting as a tailor's. As long as you are profoundly discreet, I just need to know the amount, and then I expect quarterly profits and for people to see me as more than an heiress with an incapacitated courtesan."

"At least 400," Elizabeth told her.

She nodded, "I'm also a bit curious about who I'd be buying out."

"It really is also a tailor's," Elizabeth corrected. "Fredo is extremely talented."

Lucy quelled her curiosity, "And it's Mrs. May."

"That woman is repugnant and I swear she has looked exactly the same since I was a child. She's always been 500 years old and preserved by spite...or some sort of witchery." Isabella grimaced and looked at Elizabeth, "What were you thinking? If you were following my numerous exploits, why didn't you just come to me when you got to London?" She appeared to actually have taken offense at something for the first time since Lucy had known her.

Elizabeth put her hands up in surrender, "I clearly made a horrible mistake and I'm trying to rectify it now."

Isabella looked at Lucy, "I trust you that I will see my profits."

"Of course," Lucy said, realizing that Isabella may not be as silent of a partner as they'd hoped. She was infinitely better than Mrs. May though. She'd much rather have Isabella hovering over her shoulder.

"You know Mrs. May is going to put up a fight," Isabella told them. "I hope you're prepared for it. She's not just going to roll over and sell. She may keel over and die though when she hears it's me trying to buy it out from under her." She smirked, "What a relief it would be to never see her again at the Pleasure Gardens."

Since they were on a roll, Elizabeth asked, "Could you get us into-"

"The Pleasure Gardens? Yes. If your talented son prepares some new garments for me...or is he only capable of haberdashery?"

"He can create whatever your heart desires. It would be a marvelous way to advertise the legitimate face of our business," she assured her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so I totally think I left this open on a computer at work yesterday. Oops. Nothing was lost, but I hope to have confused the hell out of my colleagues.

"I'm here to see Charlotte," Emily said to the doorman. She'd donned her nicest dress and a hat so not to stand out at St. James's. She didn't need either of the Pinchers aware she'd come here. There was no need to cause more strife than already plagued them on the daily.

"Of course," the doorman commented before asking, "Who are you?"

"Emily Lacey. If she won't see me, can you take a message to her?" She needed to warn her about Isaac or she'd never be able to sleep at night. Hal's foreboding statement was enough to gnaw at her conscience. She'd considered doing nothing, saying nothing, but she couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. She tried to convince herself she was being dramatic and she couldn't get more information out of Hal about it, so she figured the only way to rid herself of the feeling was to tell Charlotte.

He nodded and brought her into the foyer where he left her. She looked around, admiring the decor. After a moment, he returned and said, "Come into the parlor, Lady Fitzwilliam will see you."

He led her farther into the house, which looked very different when it was empty of people. It was very quiet and clean. Isabella emerged another moment later. She was not wearing a tall wig and had her hair pulled up simply, but elegantly. 

Emily felt oddly intimidated by her, "Your ladysh-"

She raised a hand, signaling her to silence. She didn't greet her and instead asked, "You are a friend of the Pinchers, are you not, Miss Lacey?"

"A friend of Hal only. Isaac doesn't care for me nor I him," she answered.

"And you have a message for Charlotte? It isn't from Isaac Pincher, is it?" Isabella asked, very seriously, and not being particularly welcoming.

"It's not from Isaac, it's about Isaac," she told her.

"Very well," Isabella turned and Emily followed her through the house.

Mrs. Wells was sitting with Charlotte and said, "Better late than never, Emily Lacey."

Emily sneered at her and said, "I just need to tell Charlotte something."

"Here I am," Charlotte was sitting up with a bunch of pillows behind her, reading the latest copy of Harris' list. Her hair was down and she looked surprisingly well, aside from her legs, which Emily couldn't see beneath the blanket covering them. She sat the rag down and added, "I'm not going anywhere, as you can see."

Emily hadn't had any hopes of speaking with her alone, so she got right to the point, "Isaac has been brooding over you since your accident. Excessively. I'm sure you know he keeps coming here. He's got into his head that he's in love - that you two are in love - and Hal told me that an ill fate befell the last girl he found himself lovesick with. I don't know the details-"

She laughed, "He's stupid, not dangerous."

"Those two things aren't mutually exclusive," Isabella told her, taking much more heed to Emily's words than Charlotte did.

"You better than anyone know how horrid men can be, Charlotte," her Ma added. "And have you forgotten that he burned Greek Street? I don't think he's right in the head."

"He's an impulsive fool, but we made peace. It's done," Charlotte was afraid of her secret slipping out and needed to end this quickly. She said to Isabella, "See her out, please."

Emily shrugged, "Can't say I didn't warn you." She'd tried, so she'd feel no guilt. She began to follow Isabella out, but she turned back and said to Mrs. Wells, "I considered telling your secret to the Pinchers. They could've used it to urge Mr. Young to sell to them, but I didn't. Also, Mrs. Quigley is staying at Saracen's. So you all know. I'm not your enemy."

"Not really a friend either," Mrs. Wells said to her.

She ignored her and continued out with Lady Fitz.

Before allowing her to leave, Isabella asked, "Do you know what happened the night of Charlotte's accident, Miss Lacey?"

"Everyone's letting it lie, I'm told," she answered. "So what does it matter?"

"Was it truly an accident? Your Hal was fighting with Isaac and Charlotte got between them?" Isabella questioned, speaking to her much more pleasantly.

"You could say that, I suppose. I wasn't there. I know Mrs. Wells showed up and Charlotte fetched Mr. Young for her then Charlotte went upstairs with Isaac. When the land deal went sour, Hal went to find Isaac. He blamed him and Charlotte for ruining the deal." Why was this woman asking her about something she could get firsthand from Charlotte, she wondered. She figured it was possible she didn't know about Charlotte and Isaac. Charlotte likely wanted to keep it that way and there was no point in letting that cat out of the bag, proving Mrs. Wells right. 

Isabella thought on her words and then said only a polite, "Thank you."

"Charlotte's never wronged me nor have you, so watch out for Isaac. I don't trust him." Everyone thought her tactless and she often ruined things by blabbing - she was well aware of this and had no pretenses about it, but she wasn't here to hurt Charlotte.

"One more thing," Isabella stopped her again. "What is Mrs. Quigley doing at the tavern?"

Emily gave her a shrug, "Staying there. She got a room. I wanted to throw her out, but Hal said her coin was worth the same as anyone else's and to take it."

Isabella produced several coins herself and stuck them in Emily's hand, "See if you can find out what she's up to."

~~~

Lydia met with Cherry at their designated meeting place at the docks with Kate in tow. Lydia hoped Mrs. May had a stroke when they didn't return. Or at least had one when she got word that they'd vanished very early in the evening, never to return to Lord Fitzwilliam's gala. If the old woman had a heart she'd be worried that something horrid happened to them, but Lydia knew that thought would never cross the wench's mind.

"The flowers were a success, Lady Fitz is incredibly pleasant, Charlotte is doing well aside from her crushed legs, and there was no Mrs. Young," Cherry gave her the rundown. "But..." Cherry teased and Lydia waited for the reveal excitedly.

"Go on," she finally said after Cherry let the pause go on for far too long.

"But," Cherry cleared her throat as if about to give a great, rousing speech, "Not only have you escaped Bedlam, but it seems Mrs. Wells escaped the hangman's noose," she finally told her.

Mrs. Quigley laughed loudly and threw her head back in mirth.

Kate and Cherry exchanged confused glances.

"That's it! That's how we get in," Lydia said to Kate. "I knew that Mrs. Young sounded an awful lot like Maggie Wells. I knew it."

"Get in where?" Kate asked her, not following her train of thought in the slightest.

She laughed again, "Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam's house, of course!"

Kate, still confused, asked, "How does this help?"

Cherry tugged on Kate's dress and said, "She's talking about blackmail."

Kate looked at Cherry then Mrs. Quigley. "You're going to blackmail her into letting us stay in her house?"

"Exactly that," the old woman clapped her hands together. "We'll be safe there and then we can figure out how to get my house back. I can't bear to live in a tavern and we will die with Mrs. May." She knelt down to Cherry, grasped her shoulders and then kissed both of her cheeks, "You're a doll. Let's go for drinks to celebrate."

"I do enjoy drinks," Cherry said with glee.

"Tell me, did Lady Fitz let you stay the night?" Lydia asked her and then winked at Kate.

Kate looked on unsurely. This plan seemed crazy to her and also cruel for no reason. She was along for the ride, had no idea how to get off, or what she would do if she did manage to get off.

Cherry nodded, "Of course she did. I had a hot dinner in her banquet hall-"

"A hot dinner?! Not cold meat?" Lydia shook her shoulders for confirmation as if this was the most important piece of information.

"Yes, hot. Also, vegetables and then pudding. She's acting as if it's a holiday and Charlotte's family are royals, Mrs. Quigley. Now about that drink..."

"Indeed," Lydia stood up, took Cherry's hand, and turned to Kate. "Perhaps a drink will loosen you up, dearest Kate. You'll thank me for this once we're settled into our new home." She cackled again as if she'd just said a very funny joke.

~~~

Harcourt immediately sent word to Mrs. May that her girls vanished in the night without performing a single service - her old woman and girl, rather. He didn't really care about Mrs. Quigley, but he had a strong interest in the odd girl she kept close to her. Mrs. Quigley always had a favorite and this Kate was her new favorite, but she was different from the likes of Charlotte and Anne Pettifer. She was quiet and seemed somehow innocent without being innocent at all. He could tell she had a secret desire for carnal delights. He would take her, screaming and crying all the while, but knew she would get pleasure from it. She reminded him of his sister a bit, he thought, when they were younger and before she became this mighty thorn in his side and embarrassment to their family name. Their dearly departed father was certainly rolling over in his grave with each of her gossip-column exploits.

He gritted his teeth as he thought of her and then he penned another missive. He had a few of his sly friends attempting to locate Sophia. After she ran off with one of her mother's footmen they had holed up in a few different taverns before disappearing. Isabella didn't know where she'd gone either as the girl stopped corresponding with her. Isabella had various low-lives searching for her as well since she'd made friends with the scum of the earth. They'd had no luck either and it was safe to assume his niece was either dead or she'd left London.

He knew little about the girl and had no idea where she'd go, but he decided to reach out to contacts in Durham, Edinburgh, and Leicester. This was at least a start. He was determined to find her first. Isabella had a network of whores, thieves and other ruffians, but he had real connections, which would surely prove more fruitful. He needed to know who the girl's father was. He couldn't bear to think of Isabella being with a man other than him. It repulsed him, and it angered him even more that he felt jealous of something that occurred so many years before. She'd done it why he was away, taken some other lover. He needed to know who it had been. For some reason, this bothered him more than whatever she had going on with Charlotte Wells in the present. He thought it was because she had taken such measures to hide the girl and continue to keep her father a secret. 

The truth of Sophia's parentage never once crossed his mind. He never considered for a moment he was her father. For such a smart man, he completely skipped over the most obvious answer to his question. He denied the possibility in such a way that it didn't even exist, just as he did not fathom his own perversions as perversions at all.


	13. Chapter 13

While Mrs. Quigley milked Cherry for every tiny detail of everything she did and ate a Lady Fitz's house, Kate sipped her beer and listened to the other tavern chatter. She'd read about Lady Fitz in the papers. She'd become famous throughout the city for shirking convention and being magnanimous toward the poor and the immoral without even the slightest association with the church. Beyond the papers, people whispered about her unnatural love for Charlotte Wells, which the reporters dared not touch upon. When Kate had ventured into her St. James's home, doing Mrs. Quigley's strange bidding, the woman had been so welcoming in spite of her association with the woman. Kate didn't want to blackmail her, especially knowing that she had already suffered for years with Lydia blackmailing her.

"She said I could visit any time," Cherry said. "So don't go barrelling in just yet. I don't want her to know it was me."

"Of course not, my beautiful little one," Lydia reassured her. "We will wait a few days."

"What if she thinks it was me? I also saw Mrs. Wells...only I didn't know she was Mrs. Wells." Kate questioned her, concerned and overhearing the commentary.

"Don't you worry, dear," she patted her cheek. "She's certainly so busy doting on Charlotte that she won't put any of this together. She's not very smart. People have been coming and going from her house for over a week now. All sorts of undesirables."

"I just...this doesn't seem..." Kate couldn't figure out what she wanted to say exactly or how to say it to this woman she had very ambivalent feelings toward. She was trying to say there had to be another way, some other option. "Nevermind," she mumbled into her drink and noticed that the blonde tavern girl, Emily Lacey, was glaring at them from the bar. She wondered what Mrs. Quigley had done to her. Now didn't seem to be a good time to ask, not that Mrs. Quigley would give her the whole truth about it.

She thought that maybe she could sneak away and ask Emily while Lydia slept one night. Mrs. Quigley kept such a watchful eye on her. At first, she thought it was to protect her from the assorted dangers of London. She still somewhat thought that, but she was also beginning to think that it was less benevolent than it seemed. She was like the woman's treasured pet or it was like she was really her mother, but a freakishly overprotective mother. It dawned on her that she was a captive. Her captor was often kind to her, but she was a captive no less. They'd escaped Bedlam and then become captured by Mrs. May, now they'd escaped Mrs. May, and Kate was still being held hostage by Mrs. Quigley.

Shattering glass by the bar made everyone's heads turn. The Pincher brothers were having a squabble of some sort and one had knocked over a bottle. Kate couldn't hear what exactly they argued about but did manage to get the gist that someone's boat had left and on it went their best investment, which one of them had ruined. Emily crossed her arms and watched them as they shoved each other and eventually the pouting, smaller one went upstairs.

Emily tried to whisper something to the other Pincher, but her whisper was extremely loud for a whisper, "He's been going to St. James's."

He said something about not being surprised. His whisper was actually more like a proper whisper. 

"He's been every other day," she said to him. "They don't let him in, but he keeps going."

"Of course he does," he slammed his fist on the bartop. "He's lost sight of our goals entirely."

"He's got his own goals and they seem to be to win Charlotte or some such," her loud whispered conveyed concern.

The chatter in the tavern picked up again and she could no longer hear them. She thought she saw the three of them at the boxing match, but she wasn't certain. That night had become a blur. No one seemed sure how Charlotte had fallen still, and she wondered briefly if they had perhaps had something to do with it. If she could escape Lydia's watchful eye for a moment, she would ask Emily that as well. She hoped Emily would talk to her, but she wasn't terribly optimistic about it. She realized she was probably guilty by proxy for whatever fiendish act Mrs. Quigley committed.

~~~ 

"Ma, I'm trying to read," Charlotte said and closed the book in her hands, but kept a finger inside to hold her place. "You need a hobby if we're both going to be confined to this house. You're going to drive me mad if you keep talking incessantly."

"How about I take her out for a bit?" Nancy appeared just in time, leaning on the door frame at the entrance to the room. She was wearing her hat and had her bundle of birch sticks as well as a cloak draped over one arm. "I promise no one will see her and I'll keep her out of trouble."

"At this point, I almost don't care," Charlotte joked.

Margaret got up from the chair and stretched, "I'm not meant to be cooped up like this. It's a prison of my own making."

"We'll go see Lucy," she tossed her the cloak. "Do you need anything? Cheap beer, a deck of used cards, anything like that?" Nancy asked Charlotte.

"If you pass Isabella on your way out, send her in. That's all," she said and reopened the book.

"She was actually on her way out when I came in," Nancy told her. "Your Pa and Jacob are outside spoiling the stray cats with cooked fish from the kitchens should you need them."

"While you're sitting there, reading your fancy book, remember who taught you how to read," Margaret donned the cloak and then shook her finger at her.

Charlotte looked up and laughed as Nancy grabbed her Ma's shoulders, turned her and gave her a gentle shove saying, "Come on, Mags. Let's give the girl some peace."

~~~

When Nancy and Margaret arrived at Golden Square, they were surprised to see Lady Isabella leaving the very establishment they were entering.

"Funny I keep seeing you leaving places," Nancy commented as they all stood at the door.

"I may have just done something quite foolish," she confessed very quietly to the women.

"You bagpipe a molly?" Margaret asked her in all seriousness.

Nancy snickered and Isabella glowered at her briefly before asking, "What are you doing roaming the streets? It isn't safe."

"Charlotte said I was bothering her while she was reading one of those fancy books you brought her," Margaret told her, somewhat bitterly. "She was tired of hearing me talk about America."

"Be careful," she advised. "And I didn't bagpipe anyone. I invested in this place."

Nancy burst out laughing then calmed herself and said, "Alright, then."

Lucy opened the door and grabbed onto her mother's arm, "Get inside before someone sees you. It's midday and you're out walking like you own London and being loud on top of it."

~~~

Isabella entered Charlotte's room and placed another book on the side table before leaning over and kissing her. She sat down in the chair and said, "I picked that up for you while I was out. I thought you might like it."

"Perfect, as I'm almost done with this one," she sat indicated the book she was reading that she then sat down. "I'm going to be a very well-read bawd when this is done, perhaps do some vignettes with a Voltaire theme. I could charge more, bring in some fancier clientele."

"Speaking of bawds," Isabella began with some apprehension. "I just invested in your sister's house."

"Lucy?" Charlotte mumbled with confusion.

"Do you have another sister I don't know about?" She asked sarcastically.

Charlotte laughed at her and shook her head, "The molly house?"

"As far as I know, it's a high-end tailor," she said and leaned back in the chair. She found it somewhat satisfying to surprise Charlotte.

"You're determined to get yourself locked away in Bedlam or hanged, aren't you?" Charlotte asked her with a raised eyebrow.

She crossed her arms, "They'd never. Have you not been keeping up with the paper because you're too busy with your fiction?"

"I've also been reading Harris' List," Charlotte laughed again. "Come get in bed with me. You're practically a bawd now too. Let's talk business."

"I am not," she protested. "I'm an investor in a high-end tailor for men."

"Mmhm..." Charlotte mumbled and patted the empty space on the bed, "Come talk to me. Tell me about the weather then."

She acted as if it was a chore, but she got up and walked around the bed. She shuffled the layers of her dress out of the way and lay on her back next to Charlotte. They both looked up at the ceiling. "The weather's nice out today. Not raining. Not too cold or too hot. Not wet. Did you know your Pa and brother are feeding the stray cats my good fish?"

"I may have heard speak of it," Charlotte said and flopped the copy of _Robinson Crusoe_ over onto Isabella's chest before slouching down and putting her head on her shoulder. "Read to me."

"What if I confessed to you that I can't read?" She picked up the book anyway and looked at where Charlotte had left off.

"Why are you being so difficult today?" Charlotte asked.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Of course," she said and hooked their arms together and took her hand.

"I still haven't heard from Sophia and she seems to have vanished entirely now. I don't know why she wouldn't let me know where she's gone." She cuddled close to Charlotte, "I've so many people looking for her and no one has seen her nor heard speak of her."

"You last sent word to her about me and that Harcourt had come back. Perhaps she's gone into hiding from him?" Charlotte tried to be optimistic.

"I don't want to bore you with my problems when you have your own."

"You're not, I promise," she said and kissed the top of her hand. "If there's anything I can do to help, please tell me."

"Let me read you this book to distract myself from my worries."

~~~

"Emily? Emily Lacey? Is that your name?" Kate approached her apprehensively as she wiped down a table that beer had been spilled all over. She'd become a barmaid and she had obvious disdain for the role.

"The fuck do you want?" She snapped at her.

"I suspect Mrs. Quigley has hurt you as she has a lot of people." Kate sat at the clean table and said, "I want to speak with you."

"Wow, you're an awkward one." Emily did not sit, she instead leaned against the chair across from her and flopped the dirty rag onto the table, "What do you want to speak to me about?"

"I've heard Mrs. Quigley was involved in blackmail, kidnapping, rape...I've been told she's the vilest and everyone has told me to leave her."

"Sounds about right, but they left out that she also sold girls to rich men knowing they'd be murdered. You'd do well not to walk away from her, but to run as fast as you can," she advised her in much the same tone everyone else had.

"She's truly been very good to me."

"She was good to me sometimes as well. I was never her favorite. She was very kind to Charlotte. I'm sure she was also kind to Margaret Wells in the beginning. Nancy Birch wasn't her favorite. She fed them, gave them a home, but now she has no home and no food to feed you, so what is she doing to make you stay?"

"I'd be lost without her. I knew no one here, and I fear she needs me more than I need her now..." She said sadly, "I think she's unwell. I think Bedlam jarred something loose in her."

"So leave her in an alley somewhere and let the fates decide what to do with her," Emily encouraged coldly.

"You truly despise her then?" She wanted to make sure.

"I was one of the girls she planned to sell for whatever murder sport it is the fucking nobility like to play, so yes," she said rather nonchalantly. "I was a girl no one cared about, that no one would miss."

"I'm sorry..." Kate said quietly and looked down. She felt embarrassed even though she had nothing to do with any of the ill caused by Mrs. Quigley, except maybe her most current plot.

"Not your fault, I suppose. I'm obviously not dead, so I got out of it." Emily started to leave her alone at the table.

"Wait...what happened the night when Charlotte Wells fell?"

"An accident. Nothing more." Emily didn't understand why people kept asking her about it. She hadn't even known what happened at all until the following day.

"The Pincher brothers?"

She nodded, "An accident. What's your interest in it?"

"I don't know...I just, find her interesting. She was also kind to me although I was with Mrs. Quigley, and I...I found her after she fell. I sat with her until Mrs. Quigley pulled me away."

"I used to work at her Ma's house. I've known her a long time," Emily softened slightly. "Let me get you a drink on the house and you can tell me where you came from and how you came to be Mrs. Quigley's new favorite." It dawned on her that she could get information from this girl that Lady Fitz would pay her for.

~~~

A few days later, after having snuck away from Hal six times to go to St. James's and being turned away by Lady Isabella's doormen, Isaac's polite facade began to slip crumble and he had begun to hate Isabella, seeing her as the source of this roadblock. Emily followed him on his seventh attempt. She didn't know exactly why. She wanted to see what happened when he got there, and some other part of her wanted to stop him somehow. His fixation evolved into obsession and she wanted it all to be done with so that Hal could also get on with things. As he stomped across town, Emily scurried behind him, keeping to the shadows while she tried to figure out exactly what she was doing and what she hoped to accomplish. At the very least, after Isaac was turned away, she could bring updates on Mrs. Quigley's comings and goings to Lady Fitz.

Just before he reached his destination, she shouted, "Oy, Isaac!"

He stopped and turned, "What are you doing? Are you following me?"

"You need to stop," she said. "You don't want to mess with these people. Charlotte's mum once handed me over to another bawd that planned to sell me to be murdered."

"I need to see Charlotte," he said forcefully. "And I really don't care about your sad backstory."

"Why do you need to see her? There's nothing between you. Your brother almost killed her and I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to see you or you would've been let in by now. It's done. Come back to Saracen's and let's figure out your next investment," she tried to speak to him reasonably.

"Money is meaningless without love," he said to her. It would have perhaps been romantic had he not looked deranged when he said it.

"Love? You don't love Charlotte Wells," she said harshly.

He clenched his jaw and glared at her, "I love her and she loves me. Why else would she have told Nancy she wanted to let it all go? Forgive Hal's carelessness? Let it lie?"

"Maybe," Emily put her hands on her hips. "Maybe it's because she doesn't want her ladyfriend to know you were sticking it to her everyday and she doesn't want to lose her meal ticket?" She motioned to the house, "She's living at St. James's now, which is a big ol' upgrade from Greek Street and a hell of an upgrade from Saracen's Head. She's got a real fuckin' doctor taking care of her legs and people waiting on her hand and foot. You can't compete with that, you idiot."

His face contorted into a hateful scowl, "Even the tallest trees can be felled with time and a sharp ax."

"For fuck's sake, you cannot try to take down Lady Fitz. Do you not realize how your idiocy trying to solve the Charlotte problem by torching Charlotte's house has ruined everything? Do you not make these connections between events at all?"

"What do you know? You're just a vapid tavern slut. You're using my brother, sucking all of the sense out of him, and he won't listen to me."

"Charlotte Wells was using you and you're not listening to either of us," she argued, trying to turn his own words against him.

"It's different," he persisted. "Charlotte loves me and that woman is holding her hostage."

"Alright. Now you've officially gone mad!" Emily shrieked. "Do you want to know what's happened to the other morons that thought Charlotte really, truly loved them?" She snapped. "One turned up murdered and another one was imprisoned for the first one's murder. She used you for your cock. You've basically been her whore, and you failed to collect a payment, you damned fool."

"We're in love," he insisted still. "She's being kept from me."

"You've fallen in love with a whore, Isaac. You're a pimp, you should understand how this is going to end."

He took a step toward her and she didn't flinch, "Why is it that you are allowed to be with my brother, but I am not allowed to be with Charlotte?"

She repeated for what she felt like was the millionth time, "Because she does not love you, you daft fucking twat."

He slapped her and then the two stood and stared viciously at one another for several minutes. She wouldn't give him the dignity of a dramatic response. She wanted to slap him back, to gouge out his eyes even. Instead, she touched her reddening cheek before turning and walking away without another word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to wrap up the entire show and stick a nice bow on it, but there's a lot to deal with. I hope you're all enjoying this accidental novel! I knew it would be long, but I didn't quite expect this. I just keep losing control of these wonderful characters. Thanks again for all of the comments and kudos!


	14. Chapter 14

"Just let him in," Charlotte resigned herself to his persistence. He definitely wasn't picking up on the hint. The doorman nodded and went to bring Isaac inside. "Maybe he'll go away once he says his piece." She groaned loudly, "It's a shame I got sponged off this morning. Lying in my filth would have surely have been off-putting and he would leave sooner."

"Do you want me to stay?" Isabella asked her. "Miss Lacey said-"

"Emily Lacey and her dramatics can be damned. Go, I'll speak with him alone. I'll be alright," she said confidently. She needed Isabella out so she could tell Isaac to keep his mouth shut about their knowledge of one another's privates and then be rid of him.

"Are you sure? Maybe I should stay at least," Nancy said. "In case you need a bully. I don't trust him, even when he's being the meek, sad worm he's been."

"I'll be alright," she said again. "I know how to handle him. He's simple."

"I'll wait outside the door." Nancy got up. "Yell if you need me."

"Fine," Charlotte knew she couldn't convince her otherwise, arguing was futile.

Nancy urged Isabella out, who looked exceedingly worried and kept glancing back over her shoulder.

When Isaac entered he was red in the face and clearly angry. He clutched his hat so tightly that he was crushing its brim. He was no longer the polite Isaac of his previous visits at all. Emily had gotten him all worked up with the nonsense she kept spewing. He didn't believe a word of it and she just wanted to rattle him because she was a venomous bitch. In his mind, this was part of a plot for her to steal his brother from him. She wanted to ruin him and have his brother all for herself until she'd sucked him dry of all he was worth.

He didn't wait to be escorted to Charlotte's room and stomped through the house. Regardless, Isabella greeted him with her typical soft-spoken courtesy as he approached, "Mr. Pincher."

He glared at her resentfully as he passed and said nothing. She gave him an equally hateful look as he closed the door behind him.

Nancy lightly touched Isabella's wrist and tried not to seem too concerned. She said, "Go get Will...just in case. I'm certain I can kill him if need be, but dead weight is heavy and there's no need for you to mess up your dress if we have to dispose of his body."

"Yes," she said and went to find Mr. North. She suspected he was out back with Jacob and Margaret. They'd decided that out back of the house was safe enough for Mrs. Wells, who wasn't fairing well being cooped up inside.

Nancy put her ear to the door and listened. 

"Charlotte," Isaac said to her, his voice shaking. Nancy couldn't tell if it was sincere nervousness or another ruse of some sort.

"Isaac," Charlotte responded, not with an unpleasant tone nor a particularly pleasant one. She watched him carefully and noted that something was very off then put on some convincing normalcy. "I told you it would be best if we didn't talk, but here you are wanting to talk to me again."

"I love you, Charlotte," he said plainly and remained standing at the door looking somewhat apprehensive, but he was standing up straight. His face was still red with residual rage

She immediately began to laugh hysterically. She covered her mouth and tried to stifle it but to no avail. "Oh, no..." she muttered between chuckles. "I'm so sorry...I'm not meaning to laugh...at you."

"I've loved you since I first saw you," he continued. He remained standing at the door, squeezing the life from his had. He clenched his jaw and appeared confused by her laughter.

"So you...set my house on fire...with your...burning love?" She laughed still.

"I know you love me too," he stated. "But I know I don't have as much to offer you as Lady Quimfingers-"

"Lady Quimfingers? Oh, God." This sent her into an all-new laughing fit. "That's beautiful...you are, honest to God...a true poet, Isaac."

"Charlotte," he took a step forward and began to wring his hat until his knuckles were white. "You are mine."

Her laughter began to subside, mainly because she didn't like to be a possession, "Please, stop this. Or have you come to murder me with wit? Finish the job for your brother?"

"It was an accident. He didn't mean for you to fall. I'm sorry he did that. He was angry with me, not you." His apology sounded honest enough from outside of the room, but Charlotte didn't care for how he looked at her when she said it.

"It's forgiven. We can't keep getting revenge upon one another until the end of time," she started to catch her breath. "He's made me a cripple, but it's done. I'm not dead.." She laughed again in spite of herself, thinking about his ridiculous words of affection. She apologized once more, "I'm truly sorry...I keep...laughing."

"Come with me," he was unaffected by her recurring jocularity. "Let's leave. We'll go to America."

She motioned to her legs, still laughing slightly, "Can't. I'm stuck in bed for months. I suspect you won't want to change my bedpan or deal with my sponge baths when it comes down to it. Cripples are really a fucking pain in the ass."

"I will," he said with an exaggerated nod.

"You will not. It's repulsive. I'm basically a child, you have to take care of, that swears like a sailor. You can't fuck me either while my legs are in bits," she pointed to her legs dramatically again, this time with a bit of frustration. "Fucking is all we did."

He took another step forward and looked into her eyes, "But we're more. We're more than-"

"Oh, Christ's titties...stop your jokes and sit down..." She let out another laugh, this one forced. She'd normally have made her exit now if he were a cull, but her broken legs prevented it. Yelling for Nancy also didn't seem prudent because she was afraid this would only incite violence. "Have a drink, please. All this laughing is making my legs hurt." She grabbed the neck of the wine sitting on the table by the bed, uncorked it and poured herself a glass as well as a glass for Isaac. "Sit, have a damn drink and tell me of the weather. Be a poet."

"I'm not joking, Charlotte," he said, still standing, staring at her, waiting for the response he wanted that wasn't coming although he was giving what he was sure was his best, most genuine effort. He was being so honest and prostrating himself before her, and she did not believe him.

She sipped her wine and looked him in the face, realizing that Emily Lacey had, in fact, been speaking the truth. "Oh...you're not joking, are you?" She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes that had begun to water in her laughing fits. She sat down the glass of wine but kept the bottle in her hand. "Isaac, you were a fun little tryst, but..."

"But you've roped yourself an heiress," he said bitterly. "You really are a whore."

"Yes, I've had no pretenses about the latter, but I didn't rope her and I don't give a single shit about her money," she became defensive and didn't break her eye contact with him. The look in his eyes, she'd seen something similar before just before Lord Howard attacked her. She spoke to him calmly, but bluntly. She was trying to be as gentle as she could, but also clear and direct. "I thought you'd been coming by to say you were sorry for setting my house on fire and for your idiot brother pushing me off of a balcony. I planned to accept your apology, thank you for the dick rides, then for you to go on your way, and that be the end of all of this. I thought you'd put your cock in someone else and leave me be."

"Hal was right, you ruined the deal," he growled and crumpled his hat. 

"No, you ruined the deal by setting my house on fire, Isaac. Do you recall that decision?" She tightened her grip on the wine bottle and watched every muscle twitch in his arms. She was afraid he was going to hit her, but she was ready.

"I came to apologize for keeping my love for you a secret," he lowered his voice and turned away from her. "I came to tell you I was ready for us to be together."

"You need to leave now, Isaac. You're done here," she told him. She thought he had begun to cry. "You said what you needed to say, now get on with your business with your brother. I'm sorry I don't feel the same." She wasn't sorry at all.

He whimpered, "I know you have feelings for me too because-"

"I don't though," she interrupted him, but still spoke very gently. "I never did. I enjoyed the act and I enjoyed having a dirty secret because I guess I'm a rubbish person. I don't love you. Don't try to tell me how I feel."

He moved slowly toward the door, his head hanging. Part of her wanted to laugh at him for falling in love with her and another part felt bad for him, for the exact same reason. The latter part was quite small and vanished entirely as she watched him lock the door before turning back to face her. The key had been left in the lock on the inside. There had been no reason to remove it. Everyone had overlooked it. It had been there for days. Charlotte had thought nothing of it and forgotten about it entirely until that moment. Isaac only saw it when he turned to leave, but now he wasn't leaving. His jaw was clenched and a vein bulged in his forehead, his eyes were brimming with enraged tears. 

Nancy heard the lock fall into place and immediately pounded against the wood of the door, "You unlock this door right now, shit fucker!"

Isabella had rejoined with Mr. North and Mrs. Wells several minutes before. She shook her head in disbelief and then said, "Kick it down, Will."

He grunted in agreement. He would have done so without her telling him to do so. "Get outta the way, Nance."

"Nance!" Charlotte shouted from inside at last, "He's gone mad!"

Nancy cringed. She moved aside and went to Isabella. She took her hands, "Everything will be alright. We have this under control."

Isabella did not require reassurance and said with terrifying calmness, "It won't be fine because if he harms a single hair on her head, I will kill him myself, and you will have to pry me from his dead body."

"Done it before. Nothing we can't handle," Nancy gave her an affirmative look.

Margaret had drawn her gun and wielded it shakily for when Mr. North kicked in the door. She overheard Isabella's words and said, "Not if I shoot him first."

"Unlock this door, Mr. Pincher!" Mr. North bellowed, giving him one final chance as he rolled up his sleeves and moved back for a running start.

Charlotte had little choice, but to try to stall Isaac long enough for her Pa to bring the door down. She clutched the wine bottle in her hands, maneuvering it and preparing to hit him with it when he got close enough. It was heavy glass and half-full. She was sure she could do some damage with it if need be. She said to him, still as calmly as possible, "You can't set a girl's house on fire and expect her to fall in love with you. You shouldn't expect her to fuck you after either, but I sometimes have questionable judgment. I'm sorry, Isaac. I didn't mean to lead you on. I thought you understood."

The crazed look on his face shifted for a split second to a look of hopefulness as the tears began to drip down his cheeks, "You do love me-"

"No, no, no," she shook her head. "I do not love you. You have somehow misunderstood literally everything I said." What was taking her Pa so long? It felt like this was dragging out forever since he locked the door.

"You want me to believe you've fallen in love with some woman over me?!" He slowly walked toward her and stopped just out of the range of the bottle if she were to swing it. "You were going to make love to me in this house! Her house!" He reminded her, all of the rage returning in an instant. "You chose me!"

She winced, "I did not choose you. We were never making love. I made a mistake that night. I never should have left her."

"How much is she fucking paying you? I'll match it," he said with more scary optimism.

Mr. North slammed into the door and the hinges buckled and the wood splintered around them, but the door did not come down. The house was built unfortunately well for this situation. Startled, Isaac whirled around and then he took a step back, closer to the bed. His hat fell from his hands.

Charlotte yelled, "For fuck's sake, kick in the door, Pa!"

He spun around again to face her after she shouted. He screamed at her, "I loved you!"

She realized he'd changed the verb to the past tense in only a few seconds. This sent a chill down her spine. "No, it wasn't love, Isaac."

"You soul-sucking witch. You tricked me," he growled. "You fucking, cunt-licking whore. You tricked me! You think you are so damned smart, but look at you now!"

"Yes," and as she uttered the word he lunged toward her, his hands like mishappen claws, intending to strangle her, she suspected. His face was contorted with anger, red and twisted. His cheeks were soaked with tears, some mixture of his perceived heartbreak and rage.

In a split second, the door collapsed inward with a loud, gut-wrenching squeak and a thunderous crack. Charlotte slammed the wine bottle against the side of his head with a melodious thump, followed by shattering glass and the startling sound of Margaret's gun going on. The remaining wine splashed out, Isaac fell, and then she dropped the broken bottle, which clattered to the floor as acrid smoke from the gun filled the air.


	15. Chapter 15

"I've made a mess. I'm covered in wine. The bed is covered in wine. I've wasted good wine." Charlotte mumbled rapidly while slumped into her pillows. She covered her face with her hands, feeling some muddled combination of guilt, foolishness, and relief.

Jacob peeked through the doorway, and asked, "Did you shoot him, Ma?"

"Nah, your Ma shot a hole in the fancy ceiling though," Nancy said, stepping on the collapsed door, which let out a noisy squeak. She looked up at the hole that plaster dust was falling from like light snow.

"While we're listing things of Isabella's we've ruined today, I've also broken her fine door," said Mr. North looking down at Isaac laying in a heap next to the bed. 

Then everyone began to chatter at once about what to do about all of these things and Jacob kept asking if he could see the body. Isabella said nothing. She crossed the room, the edge of her dress dragging through the spilled wine and bits of broken glass. She stepped over Isaac like he was little more than a pile of dirty linen. She grabbed Charlotte's wrists and moved her hands from her face then kissed her. When she pulled away she said, "I'll get more wine and clean blankets."

"I'm sorry," Charlotte said to her faintly.

"It's alright. I have plenty of wine and blankets, and everything your wonderful family has damaged can be repaired," she kissed her again.

Charlotte pulled away from her slightly, "No, I'm sorry for..." She paused and changed what she was saying, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough," Isabella answered.

"Are you not angry?" She asked, dumbfounded.

"Utterly fucking livid, but I'm still rather fond of you," she said softly. "We'll speak later. I will deal with this mess first."

Charlotte pulled her hand from Isabella's grasp, placed them on either side of her face and pressed her forehead to hers. She wanted to say something more - another apology, thank her, something - but she couldn't come up with anything good enough.

Isabella kissed her again, passionately and aggressively, before turning and looking down as Isaac, "Is this pile of rubbish dead or no?"

Nancy knelt down next to him and said, "Not dead. Just has a nasty bump on his head."

"I wish he were dead," Margaret said and kicked him solidly in the ribs. He didn't waken.

"So shoot him," said Mr. North. "Where the hell did you get a gun anyway? You nearly shot me, woman."

Everyone began to talk again, but Isabella quickly took control of the room. She raised her voice, which never failed to startle them all, "Don't shoot him. Margaret, put the gun away now." She picked up one of the glasses of wine Charlotte poured and handed it to Charlotte saying, "You, don't move." Charlotte looked at her legs and tried to force a smile as she took the wine. Isabella downed the second glass, pointed at Isaac and said, "Get him to the parlor. We'll summon his brother."

Margaret tucked her gun into her dress and looked up at the hole in the ceiling, "Sorry about that, by the way."

"It's only plaster." She looked again at Isaac lying motionless on the floor. Wine pooled around him and drenched the side of the bed. There were also several hunks of glass strewn about, "Mind the glass while you grab him. I'll get someone to clean it up." She stepped over him again, the wine-soaked hem of her dress dragging across his face. 

The doorman approached the threshold just as Mr. North was hoisting Isaac up by his armpits and preparing to throw him over his shoulder. He looked down at the damaged door then said, awkwardly, "Sorry to intrude, but Miss Lacey and the other Mr. Pincher are here to, um, retrieve this man's body is what Miss Lacey said. Her words not mine."

"What a jolly coincidence because we want to be rid of his body at this very moment," Isabella said to him. Then she mumbled, "Well, that's fortuitous."

"Shall I let them in?" He then asked her.

"Yes. We'll meet them in the front parlor. Also, have a carriage prepared for them, so they don't have to drag this ass across town. I don't want any questions asked, at least not today. While you're at it send someone to clean up this wine and broken glass." He nodded and turned to leave before she tacked on, "Oh, and bring a new bottle of wine. Also, more glasses. Charlotte needs her bed changed as well. As you can see there's wine everywhere."

Margaret went to Charlotte and Isabella followed Nancy and Mr. North toward the parlor. "God's sake, Char," Margaret let out a loud sigh and put her hand on her shoulder. "Emily Lacey was right." Then she winced, "I hate saying that. I can't stand that tart."

"I'm a fool and these damned Pinchers are going to be the death of me," she groaned.

"Can't argue with you there. Want me to kill them for you?" Her Ma asked, trying to elicit some lightheartedness.

Charlotte only groaned, "God, yes. But don't actually. This all needs to stop."

~~~

Emily had ducked down an alley and Isaac was so flustered that he didn't even notice. She watched him try and fail to get his shit together before he knocked. She hoped he wouldn't be let in. A sensible person definitely would have given up several times over. This made her very uncomfortable as she had known her share of madmen.

When he was actually let in, she stood there for a moment trying to figure out what she should do. She could go in after him and try to stop whatever nonsense he had planned - if any planning had actually occurred. She was afraid he was going to do something crazy...crazy like when he set the Greek Street bawdy house on fire and she didn't really want to be caught up in that quite so directly, so she decided to run and get Hal. He knew his brother best, after all. As she sprinted back toward the tavern, she realized that she was actually more concerned for Isaac than she was for Charlotte and Isabella. She wasn't concerned because she cared about him, per se, but she was afraid of the chaos that would follow if someone killed him. She wanted the feuding to be done. They could have lived in peace, but Isaac made it all go to shit and here he was fucking it up even more.

She and Hal were led inside and when she saw Isaac slung over Mr. North's shoulder she realized she had been correct to be more concerned for him. She also realized she'd uttered quite the premonition to the doorman saying they'd come for Isaac's body. Hal looked at her, surprised, upon seeing his brother in such a state. She'd meant it as a joke, hoped it was a joke. At least he wasn't dead, but he'd been knocked out and smelled strongly of wine, which had matted his hair to one side of his head. Mr. North flopped him onto a sofa carelessly.

"Hopefully this knocked some sense into him," Hal commented, mostly under his breath. "Last time, we had to go to war to get him to forget about a girl."

"Perhaps he got hit hard enough that he'll just forget he met Charlotte entirely," Emily said.

He nodded in agreement and said, "I honestly want this done now."

"You," Isabella approached him. "You pushed Charlotte from the balcony."

He turned to the lady of the house and didn't back down to her advance, "An accident, and I thought you all were leaving it be."

"I'm slightly less inclined to do that after the stunt your brother pulled today," she responded.

"Aye," Nancy agreed and stood behind her for support.

"I can't be held responsible for my lovesick brother," he stated.

"I tried to warn you about him," Emily piped up, unable to keep her mouth shut when she had been completely correct. She had to remind them all, in case they'd forgotten. She moved along quickly when she noticed all of the glares, including one from Hal. She asked, "So who hit him?"

"Charlotte," Mr. North told her. "He'd locked himself in her room with her then tried to attack her when she said she didn't return his feelings."

"Huh. Shouldn't have left the key for him," she said bemusedly in exchange for more glares. She then cleared her throat and said, "I pray the damned fool isn't going to twist it about and think she hit him out of love. I've certainly met some men that-"

"Stop talking, Miss Lacey, and remove him from my house now, please," said Isabella. "If he returns, I can assure you that he will depart in a worse condition."

"Understood," Hal said and slid his brother's arm across his shoulders and hoisted him up. "Make yourself useful, Emily."

"Why didn't you get help?" Isabella stepped in front of him, blocking their path. "After Charlotte fell, why did you just leave her there?"

"I thought she was dead," he answered.

"But why didn't you tell someone? Anyone?" She repeated. "Why didn't any of you get help, even if you thought she was dead?"

"Don't look at me," said Emily, getting underneath Isaac's other arm to help drag him out. "I didn't know what happened until the next day, I swear."

"Shut up, Miss Lacey. I'm not talking to you," Isabella said to her and she immediately closed her mouth. "What kind of fucking monster accidentally knocks a girl from a balcony and then leaves her...unless it wasn't an accident?" Isabella stared at him and everyone remained silent and still. "Did you hope she would die? Is that why you didn't say anything to anyone? You left her and hoped she would die? Why?"

Hal took several moments to answer. "It was an accident," he insisted. "I didn't want to hurt her, even though she was a pest. Truly, I was only after my brother. She was in the way. I panicked."

She went on, forcing them to stand there with the dead weight between them, "Your brother had in his mind that the two of them were in love. Yet he also left her there that night. Out of love?" She stepped closer, her head cocked to one side, curiously and menacing. "He left her to die and then had the audacity to show up here, thinking she returned his affections. Do I need to remind you that he burned her house, her place of work? This ruined your land deal with the Youngs, did it not? You nearly killed her, neither of you tried to help her, neither of you even went to her, and he somehow believed she loved him? I fear your brother might be sick in the head, Mr. Pincher."

"She was fucking him, you know," Hal said. He intended to sound tough, to hurt her, but the words came out quieter than he intended, and he just sounded petty. This was the best defense he could come up with for his brother.

Isabella revealed no emotion and said, "So? She's a whore. She fucks a lot of stupid men." He didn't respond. Neither did Emily. Emily couldn't even look at her as she spoke. "Get out," she moved aside to let them pass but looked at Hal with utter hatred. "Don't come back here and don't come near Charlotte, her family, or her girls. I will destroy you both and everything you have ever loved or so much as thought you loved in passing." She looked to Emily and said, "I have business with you, but not today."

Hal gave Emily another confused look on their way out, revealing the existence of more secrets between them. Emily didn't say anything. She actually felt afraid of the woman, more afraid of her than she was of Mrs. Wells and even Mrs. Quigley in that moment. She spoke to Hal with such pure contempt, not the slightest hint of fear, and she likely would have killed Isaac had it not been for Charlotte knocking him out first. She probably would have been able to get away with it too. She had more connections and so much more money than all of them. Money was really her power, and she had seemingly endless amounts of expendable income. On top of it, she was so calm, too calm somehow, and Emily found it very disquieting.

Hal opted not to say more. He cowered before Lady Fitz as he dragged his unconscious brother. They took Isaac out to the carriage they'd been provided. Isabella followed them to the door and stood in the doorway to watch them leave. Nancy and Mr. North stood far behind her with their mouths tightly shut. She closed and bolted the entrance then passed by them to return to Charlotte's room. She stepped over the door lying prone on the floor and said, "Can I speak with Charlotte alone for a moment?"

Margaret nodded and rose from the chair. She said nothing, and she ushered Jacob out with her. There was something about Isabella's expression that silenced everyone completely. Mr. North and Nancy hung far back still and Margaret joined them down the hall. None of them even made an attempt to eave's drop on the conversation nor speak to one another. Isabella didn't sit. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She didn't say anything at all and just looked at Charlotte coldly, very different from before. 

Charlotte decided to speak after several moments of this awkwardness, "I've been tupping Isaac since the night I left here when you provided my alibi after I stole their barrel-money. I fucked him twice before that. The first time I don't know why. The second time was to distract him while we robbed him blind. That night, I was with you, left, and then let him take me in an alley no more than a block away."

Isabella didn't flinch. She barely reacted at all, aside from to wring her hands together just a little tighter. This cut at Charlotte far more deeply than if she would have yelled at her.

"Do you want to know what I was doing when I fell?" She went on, monotonously as if reciting from some script she felt nothing about. She was trying hard to feel nothing, to just say it all and be finished. "I was going to fuck him upstairs. In your house. When I was supposed to be with you."

Lady Isabella flinched then and she balled her hands into fists. She held her breath and remained otherwise still.

"I was supposed to be with you..." Charlotte said again, more sadly and shook her head. "It was your night. You were flaunting me in front of your circle as your lover, and I snuck away to be with him in secret and I honestly don't know why I did it," her voice began to crack toward the end. "I didn't want...I don't know. I can't make an excuse because there isn't one. I wasn't thinking. I hadn't been thinking."

"Do you want me to put you out, Charlotte?" she asked her calmly.

"No," she whispered. "Please, don't."

"Because you and your family have nowhere to go? You could all go to Golden Square. There's plenty of room there with Lucy or do you fear they won't allow you since I also own part of that house?"

"Isabella, no," she pleaded.

"What do you want?" She questioned her with the same flat tone.

"Whatever you're doing right now, I don't like it. I want you to stop."

"You know I don't yell," she said with a faint sigh. "I'm angry, and I'm hurt, but you made a mistake...several mistakes from the sound of it," she corrected. She didn't sound angry exactly. She seemed more disaffected, which was so much worse.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Charlotte said, completely ashamed and still sitting there on the wine-soaked bed. She bit her bottom lip and looked up at Isabella, "I know that I'm so sorry."

"Because your legs are broken because of all this?"

She shook her head, "No. That's not it."

"You were never going to tell me, were you?" Isabella continued her icy interrogation.

"I didn't want to be just another person in your life to hurt you...not because-"

"You'll never be just another person, Charlotte," her tone lightened to a sympathetic one. "I told you I heard enough of what happened in here. It's not as if you love him. You made that abundantly clear. You're not using me, but I've known that. I know what you do for money. I've been understanding, but this...with him. You had me help you get even with him for setting your house on fire and then you..." She couldn't seem to bring herself to say it and her frustration became apparent at last. "It was..." She exhaled loudly, "A mistake, and you know it was a mistake."

"Please, stay mad at me. Don't put me out though."

"God, Charlotte. I won't put you out," Isabella said, sounding disappointed. "I am mad, I promise you. You were stupid. You could have told me from the start. I probably would have been mad then too, but...afterthought's much clearer, isn't it?"

"I didn't want to hurt you and I don't know why I kept doing something that I knew would hurt you. I really don't know. I thought if you just never found out that I could pretend it never happened," she spoke urgently. She wanted desperately to come up with an excuse, but she really had nothing to explain this away. She couldn't talk herself out of it in her wildest dreams. "I don't know why I was doing it, but I know I kept it from you because I didn't want to hurt you...not because I didn't want to lose you...but yes, partly that...but mostly because I didn't ever want to hurt you because so many people have hurt you."

"Well, I certainly have no idea why you did it." This quieted Charlotte and Isabella clenched her jaw. "Are you finished being stupid now?"

Charlotte shrugged and looked down, not be able to stand her gaze any longer. Isabella approached her and placed a hand gently on her cheek. Charlotte kissed her palm and said, "You deserve so much better than me. I don't know what you want with a crippled harlot."

"Don't ever tell me what I do or don't deserve again," she responded sharply and pulled away. "Men have been telling me that all my life." She left Charlotte sitting there and passed by her other guests without even looking at them. She flagged down an attendant and reminded them to take fresh blankets and a bottle of wine to Charlotte's room and then she went out.

~~~

Everyone sat quietly in Charlotte's room. They sipped apprehensively on the wine Isabella had sent in. Margaret helped move Charlotte gently so the bed could be changed, but no one was quite sure what to say in this aftermath. Nancy thought about making a joke about how Isabella didn't throw them all out but instead left her own house because she was that good of a hostess. She ended up deciding against this and just drinking the wine in silence. Margaret sat in the chair with Jacob on her lap while Mr. North busied himself trying to repair the broken door.

It was Jacob that finally prompted conversation and an awkward conversation at that. He asked, "Where did Miss Isabella go?"

"For a walk, dearest," Margaret answered him quickly.

Charlotte was staring into her glass of wine and motioned for the laudanum, "My legs hurt now that things have quieted."

"Only a little," her Ma said in a most motherly tone and handed her the bottle.

"I know," she topped off her wine first then downed a sip of the medicine and chased it with a sour face. "You've put a great fear of this stuff in me if nothing else, Ma."

"What did you do to her, Charlotte?" Jacob asked.

"Jacob," Margaret scolded.

"What?" He questioned. "Whenever someone goes for a walk and everyone else sits around quiet, it means someone did something wrong."

Charlotte smiled slightly at him because this was very accurate, but it was a sad smile, "I hurt her."

"Why? She's been so nice to all of us," he was absolutely taken aback, seeming more upset by it than anyone else.

She poured more wine, "I think hurt her by trying to hurt her less."

"That's silly," Jacob said to her rather harshly.

"I'm silly sometimes, Jacob," she said, her voice cracking. She tried to hide it by drinking more wine.

"Your sister fucked up," Nancy said abruptly. 

"Nance," Margaret then scolded her instead of Jacob.

"So say you're sorry, Charlotte. You don't always have to be right," Jacob told her plainly as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

Charlotte laughed a little, "I did. Quite a few times, but it's not about who's right, and saying I'm sorry isn't enough."

"Charlotte," Mr. North addressed her and sat on the end of the bed after reattaching the door hinges. The door was on, but hanging askew and the lock was unrepairable. "You are truly a test of anyone's patience. You're like your Ma in that way. She's a constant test of my patience in more ways than one, but I think you've found the most patient person in the world. If we were competing in a test of patience, that woman would run circles around me. She'll come back. An apology is enough."

"She just needed to walk and think, I'm sure," Nancy told them all. "She thought she was the only person you were fucking for free. I should've taken his coin purse after you knocked him out."

"I bet you she'll be back before dark," Margaret said. "She's not as stubborn as your Pa and won't punish you for as long."

"The night of your accident, she was..." Nancy began then stopped and began again. "Everything was shit. We were all scared out of our minds and she didn't leave your side. Today, as well. If you don't want her, I'm-"

"Quit it, Nancy," Charlotte said quietly then she smiled up at her and said, "You don't stand a chance as long as I'm still alive."

"Oh, I know. Believe me," she smiled a bit, seeing Charlotte's dour mood lift. "I'm glad to have that woman as a friend, and I sure as hell don't want her as an enemy."

Mr. North smiled as well and said, "That's the truth. I think I'm a bit scared of her after today."

"What did she do exactly?" Charlotte asked.

"Bullied the hell out of the Pincher you didn't knock out and got Emily Lacey to shut her mouth immediately and then got her to stay quiet for the longest I've ever experienced is what," he then let out a guffaw at the thought.

"I've seen Emily look afraid a few times and it was not unlike those times," Nancy told her. "Looked like she was about to piss herself if your lady didn't let her pass."

"I don't know what I've done to make her care for me so. She deserves far better than I can ever give her, especially now. I don't deserve her. I really don't," Charlotte said dejectedly. "I should've just found some boring lord or another, just-"

"You deserve the world," Margaret told her, sounding somewhat angry about Charlotte's sudden self-deprecation when she herself had sold her off to a number of lords over the years.

"Aye, and you've got someone who will give it to you if you'll let her," Nancy said encouragingly. "Quit being hard-headed and let her."

Margaret spoke up again, "Charlotte, I'm sorry for everything I've done to you...put you through to make you believe you're not worthy of-"

"Stop, Ma. I know," she said. "Please don't make me cry. I don't feel like it. I know you did your best with what you knew. We don't ever need to discuss the finer points."

"I don't know what your problem is. You've damn well done whatever you pleased your whole life, but you've got my blessing if you want it, Charlotte," her Pa told her. "It's not because she's letting us stay here, getting you taken care of, or because she's having Greek Street repaired, it's because she cares for you as you are...brilliant, thorn in the side that you are." 

"Wait...are you arguing on behalf of Isaac or Isabella?" Charlotte asked him. "Because Isaac has been very persistent. I'm not clear on who you're making a case for."

He glowered at her, "Be serious for one moment."

"Sorry," she apologized quickly and sulked again.

"He's making a case for you. Quit being hard-headed," Nancy snapped. 

"Do you care for her?" Margaret then asked.

"Yes," Charlotte said as if not understanding why she was being asked. "Of course I do. I wouldn't have kept coming back. I wouldn't be here right now. Do you think I'd stay for months in a bed with someone I didn't care for? I just think she can do better than me."

"Who? Name someone you think she deserves," Nancy asked her, viciously.

"You know a lot of people," Mr. North pointed out. "Who is good enough for her, if you're not?"

Charlotte didn't answer. She stared down into her wine.

"Name a lord you know, a lady, name anyone you know," Margaret said and waited for her response. Charlotte shook her head slightly and didn't look up, then her Ma added, "She wants you, stupid girl. You've always been so confident and known your own mind until now."

Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to keep her tears at bay, "I've always known what I didn't want, but never what I wanted."

"So what do you want?" Asked Nancy.

"I want to go back in time and pick her. I want to never have met Isaac. I want to have stayed with her at the fight."

"Well, you can't do that, can you? You fucked all that up." Nancy kept prodding at her. "So choose her now. Stay with her now."

"It won't mean as much when I don't have a choice," Charlotte said dejectedly.

Margaret said suddenly, "You've always got a choice. If you wanted to leave here, we'd find a way to get you out. Will can break the door back off and we'll put you on it, carry you away. Say the word." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Isaac's not dead. :(


	16. Chapter 16

Isabella went to Greek Street. Whenever she had any sort of troubles, she went to Greek Street to find Charlotte, and she found herself going there even when her troubles related to Charlotte. The repairs were coming along and Fanny was there overseeing them. She led Lady Isabella through the house to show her every little thing excitedly and constantly thanking her. Isabella didn't plague her with her own problems and acted as if everything were fine and that she merely wanted to check up on the repairs.

"Do you want other new furniture? Curtains? Portraits? Beds, even?" Isabella asked. Fanny stopped in her tracks and turned around slowly. Fanny knew some of the fire-damaged furniture would be replaced, but Isabella was trying to re-furnish the entire house now. Her mouth was agape and she stood aghast with Kitty on her hip, not knowing what to say or if she should make these decisions. "Does this sweet girl need anything?" Isabella then asked and touched Kitty's nose with her index finger, which made the little girl grin.

"I can't accept...because it's - it's...this is Charlotte's house...and I..." Fanny finally responded and tripped over all of her words. She felt very odd saying no to someone of higher social status.

"Well, if you change your mind or find you need anything or would like anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'll have it delivered." She focused on Kitty, "And perhaps I'll have a doll made for little Kitty, yes? Or a rocking horse?"

"Your ladyship, you don't need to...I mean to say...I simply can't accept...we-I mean, I...we can't repay you," she continued stumbling over her words.

"I'm not asking you to," Isabella said to her, amazed that the young woman still seemed to think she demanded things in return. "You're truly not accustomed to gifts, are you?"

"Because there's no such thing, your ladyship," she told her, hopelessly.

"You may be right," she agreed. Then with some apprehension she looked at Kitty and asked, "May I hold her?" Fanny nodded and could not bring herself to say no to this. She passed her child over to her, still unsure though. "Do you want to know something?" Isabella went on, "I never got to hold my daughter. I didn't really see her grow up. I watched from a distance and never gave her a single present. I barely wrote to her. It's no wonder really that she's run off, is it?"

"You can get Kitty a new doll if it makes you feel better," said Fanny suddenly, saddened and confused by her words. "Nothing too fancy."

"Thank you, Fanny." Isabella looked at Kitty who smiled still and she said, "I envy you a bit. It will make me feel better at least for a moment, so will buying furniture for this brothel."

"By all means," she didn't expect to feel bad for this wealthy woman, and surely it wasn't Isabella's intention, but she felt bad and gave in. "Let Charlotte pick it out though. I don't know a thing about furniture and this is her house."

"You've done a great job getting the place fixed up again, I'm sure she won't mind." She was looking at Kitty and making faces the entire time she spoke. "Come visit her soon and bring Kitty. Does kitty like kittens? Every cat in London has gathered around my house thanks to Jacob raiding my kitchens to feed them. I fear the homeless cats are now eating better than most of the townsfolk, thanks to him."

"Oh, my. Jacob." This cheered Fanny and she finally relaxed a bit. Seeing Isabella with Kitty also helped. Having a rich lady take an interest in her daughter was nice.

"I know. It's really so many cats," she laughed and bounced Kitty gently.

After wrapping up with Fanny, Isabella went to the only other place in London where she believed she had friends - Mrs. Harvey's and Lucy's house. Mr. Croft was exiting as she got out of her carriage.

"Mr. Croft," she greeted him and managed a pleasant smile. She had become very good at faking formalities over the years - it was an important skill of courtiers. Fanny and Kitty had ultimately served as a fine distraction and she was very pleased with the Greek Street house, so it wasn't too difficult to fake although she day had been exhausting and she really did feel quite sad.

"Lady Fitz," he greeted her back, surprised by her presence at this particular business. Word had not yet spread of her investment, but it soon would.

"That's a fine coat," she said, knowingly. She passed him and entered where she was welcomed warmly by Lucy. As soon as they were in a semi-private location she told her of all of the day's events.

"Bloody hell," Lucy muttered. "Men are horrible, aren't they?"

"I like your Pa, even though he broke my door," Isabella said jokingly. "Destroyed it, really. I'll need an entire new door."

"I knew about her and Isaac Pincher. She told me the day of the fight," Lucy seemed relieved to get his information off of her shoulders. "I honestly didn't think much of it...I didn't realize...I mean, people whispered about you, but I didn't really...I didn't think..." she tripped over her words, sounding almost as awkward as Fanny.

"It's alright," Isabella touched her arm to console her. "I know what you mean. I think everyone thought the same. I was pleasantly surprised that Charlotte enjoyed my company at all. I thought that once we were done with Mrs. Quigley and all of our other plots that she'd disappear, I'd no longer be useful, and she'd get bored."

"You kept coming to Greek Street," Lucy said. "Nancy was amused."

"I felt she was my only friend in the world. I didn't know where else to go and she kept being out," Isabella laughed a little. "I started to think the universe was trying to keep us apart."

"Well, I'm glad you consider me a friend and you've come here." Isabella nodded and Lucy changed the subject slightly, "Some days I...I just don't know what I'd do without Charlotte. I could finally breathe with my Ma gone, but I can't imagine Charlotte being gone." It was so easy and simultaneously so hard to talk to Isabella. "If she had died that night, I don't know what I would have done."

"I honestly don't know if I could live without her...as melodramatic as that is," Isabella sighed. "I was alone for so long. I'd resigned myself to being alone forever and she wouldn't allow it. I don't want to be alone again."

"You won't be." Lucy took her hand, "She's always been my protector. She's who knows all my secrets, and she's...Charlotte."

"Yes," Isabella laughed. "I want to strangle her sometimes."

"Oh, me too. She always thinks she's the cleverest person in the room...usually she is, but still." This made Isabella laugh more and Lucy smiled. "Sometimes I hate her. I feel like everyone has always preferred her to me...she's better than me at everything."

"That isn't true. Look at you running this house, making a name for yourself in...haberdashery." Then they both laughed for a moment.

"I know, I know. Once, she told me she was the Queen of Pretend...our Ma sold our virginity, as I'm sure she's told you...and Charlotte gave me this absurd talk like only Charlotte could on the night of my auction." Isabella made a shocked face but said nothing. She did know some of this, but hearing it from Lucy so nonchalantly was jarring. Lucy continued, "I'm bad a pretend. I was even worse at it then, but she's very good. She's not good at not pretending though. When things are real, she..." Lucy took a deep breath and squeezed Isabella's hand more tightly, "She's had so many people say they loved her, and it was all twisted and wrong every time. Even our Ma...so I think she messes it up when she can't pretend."

"Lucy," Isabella stopped her there. "I will tell you something only Charlotte knows." Lucy nodded for her to go on, "My brother is Sophia's father. Love is..."

"My God, I'm so sorry," Lucy said before she could finish.

"Charlotte thinks I deserve better than her, but I thought she'd find my truth repulsive, and all this time I've been thinking she could do world's better than me. I've got money, but I'm-"

"You fool!" Lucy shouted at her and then covered her own mouth. She seemed shocked that she had objected so vehemently.

Isabella laughed at her, "I'm glad to know you feel so passionately about this."

"If you'd met some of the people..."

"I have," she signed. "My brother was one of them."

"Holy hell."

"I wish I had let you all ruin him with your Lord Fallon, but I..." She looked down at her hands. Lucy had not released her grip. "I couldn't because...love is confusing, and he's my brother. I hate him, but I...I'm sorry for...I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. I saw an opportunity to get my daughter back and to be free of him. Now I've lost Sophia and he is still free being a monster..."

"Love always seemed a dirty word to me...dirtier than all of the filthiest words."

"Yes," Isabella agreed. "Because it always seems to be a lie." 

"I think I may have loved Fallon. Maybe he loved me too. He just loved the Spartans more..."

"My brother is their leader and I want to destroy all of them if I can. Cutting off the head of the snake would do it and I would love nothing more than to bring my brother to his knees and do so in front of everyone."

"I'll help you," Lucy said and placed her other hand supportively on Isabella's. "For what he's done to you and what he did to Fallon."

"I need to find Sophia, and I want to help your Ma."

"I'll do whatever I can as long as you forgive my sister. For someone so smart, she's very stupid sometimes."

Isabella looked down, somewhat ashamed, "I've already forgiven her, but she wants me to continue being mad, so I will stay out all day."

Lucy stood, "I'll get you a drink then. Elizabeth should be back shortly. She went to visit her silk man."

When Lucy returned and placed two glasses and a bottle down on the table, Isabella asked, "So you're not sure if you loved Lord Fallon?"

Lucy shrugged, "I thought we'd established that love is confusing."

"I do love Charlotte."

"I know," Lucy poured her a drink.

~~~

Lady Isabella crept into Charlotte's room. She closed the door quietly behind her as best as she could, but it was doomed to remain slightly ajar until replaced. She blew out several candles on her way to Charlotte's bed. The fire became the main source of light and it had grown dim. She took off the long nightgown she wore and draped it over the chair at the dressing table, revealing a short chemise. Charlotte had fallen asleep with a book splayed open on her stomach and her hand lying limply across it. Isabella gently took the book and dog-eared the page so her place wouldn't be lost when she sat it on the bedside table. 

She then tip-toed around to the other side of the bed and slipped in next to Charlotte and nestled herself next to her.

"You came back," Charlotte mumbled, half-asleep.

"It is my house, after all."

Charlotte opened her eyes. "I didn't think you'd stay with me tonight, I meant."

Isabella didn't say anything in response and instead kissed her. She bit down on Charlotte's lower lip and she welcomed it, wrapping her arms around the other woman. Isabella came at her like she had something to prove. She'd been eager with Charlotte before, but there was always some faint apprehension and underlying politeness. This time there was none of that. Isabella's hands tangled in her hair and she didn't allow her to pull away. Charlotte twisted her fingers in the soft silk of her chemise and smiled into her skin as she vigorously sucked at her neck. 

After a passionate gasp, Charlotte whispered, "I've had enough laudanum today that you don't need to worry about hurting me." The woman kissed her once more on the lips before climbing on top of her and straddling her hips carefully. Charlotte placed her hands on her thighs and squeezed them tightly, "I'm fairly certain you could break my legs again and I'd barely notice between that poison and the pleasant distraction."

Isabella placed a finger on Charlotte's lips and said quietly, "You talk so fucking much sometimes."

"I like when you talk dirty," she smiled and kissed her fingertip and then took her finger into her mouth and gave it a firm, seductive suck. She grinned and watched as Isabella's chest rose and fell slowly in response and then shifted her arms beneath her legs and under the hem of the other woman's chemise to grasp her soft buttocks.

"That was barely dirty," Isabella contested before leaning down and kissing her again.

"It was dirty for you," Charlotte laughed. "Tell me what you want me to do to you. Be dirtier."

"Touch me?"

"I'm doing that, silly." Charlotte massaged her ass and felt the woman's warmth spreading from between her legs against her own pelvis. "Tell me where."

"My...cunt?" she said as a question.

"You're very good at a lot of things, but you are very awful at this." She slipped her hands back around and began rubbing her inner thighs, making her way farther and farther toward their apex, but intentionally stopping just at the edge of the other woman's pubic hair. 

"Tell me if I hurt you, please," Isabella whispered. "I don't ever want to hurt you."

Charlotte felt a pang of guilt, realizing that Isabella's words nearly mirrored her own, but Isabella was talking about hurting her legs and irritating the mass of bruises covering her body. "Isabella..." she whispered back and moved her hands further up her silk chemise until her thumbs grazed the undersides of her breasts. "I'm scared of all this. Not...this, not giving you pleasure, but...us."

"Charlotte Wells, you are the bravest woman I've ever met," she said and kissed her cheek. "Now please stop talking."

As her lips touched the skin beneath her jaw, she took Isabella's earlobe in her mouth and bit it gently before saying, "No, you are worlds braver than I..." Isabella pulled away slightly and looked down at Charlotte. Her hands were massaging her breasts and she ran her thumbs over her hard nipples and went on, "You're not afraid of judgment or ridicule or being hurt..."

"I'm afraid of all of that. I merely decided not to let it stop me...because of you."

"No," Charlotte insisted, "You were always brave. You just needed a little encouragement...someone to tell you it was ok."

"That was Nancy," Isabella said seriously.

Charlotte let her hands fall, but then grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to her face with a whole-hearted laugh, "I definitely deserved that."

"Yes, you did."

Charlotte urged her to move up more until her knees were on either side of her head, then she lifted Isabella's chemise and dipped her head forward. With her thumbs, she parted Isabella's dark curls so she could run her tongue the length of her clit. She wrapped her left arm around her to pull her farther up and then slipped two of her fingers inside of her already wet slit. Charlotte smiled as she also pulsed her tongue into Isabella's wetness, thinking about how she was going to need to change her own chemise yet again. 

Isabella latched onto the headboard of the bed with one hand and grasped Charlotte's head with the other. Men were so simple. It was just a matter of finishing them and making them believe a good time had been had by all. Women were a bit more of a challenge, but never one Charlotte struggled with. It was still a lot of pretending but never with Isabella. Charlotte always wanted more than anything to make her happy. Isabella urged her to thrust her fingers harder and farther inside of her and began moving her hips in rhythm with Charlotte's tongue. Charlotte curled her fingers toward her mouth as she suckled her clit.

"Oh, fuck, Charlotte," she moaned.

Charlotte smiled slightly and continued. She dug her nails into Isabella's lower back and slipped a third finger of her other hand into her. She sucked on her swollen clit, listening to her cries of passion and feeling the muscles in her thighs tighten against her. She lapped up all of her musky juices and pressed her face into Isabella's vagina, her head shrouded by the hem of her chemise. After several minutes of this bliss, Isabella's legs clenched and her muscles tightened as she came. She still gripped the headboard and Charlotte's one hand had left long claw marks on her back and down her left thigh. Charlotte kissed her several more times and dotted kisses gently on her inner thighs before she peaked at her from beneath her chemise and said, "I love you, Isabella. You're my dearest friend, and I'm so very sorry if it hasn't seemed like it."

This caused Isabella's breath to catch in her throat when she had barely even caught her breath as it was. She looked down and gazed at Charlotte between her legs for several moments. Of course, Charlotte had to say it while between her legs. At once she felt her eyes welling with tears. She slid carefully back down until she was straddling Charlotte's hips again and Charlotte pulled her fingers from inside of her. Charlotte grabbed her legs again and she felt her own wetness on her thigh before she bent down to kiss her. She tasted herself on her mouth.

"I fear I'm running a risk of sounding like the madman in here earlier if I speak my mind," Isabella said to her.

"Say it," she said nicely and then joked. "It's not like I can run away..."

"You promise not to hit me with a wine bottle?"

Charlotte frustratedly squirmed underneath her and put her hands on either side of her face, "I promise. Can't reach it now anyway. Stop torturing me and say it."

She finally gave in, "I love you."

Charlotte pulled her in to kiss her again before saying, "I'd like you to return the favor, but honestly, I'm afraid of buggering up one of my legs and not knowing it until the medicine wears off tomorrow. Plus that damned box is really in the way, and I don't want to lay here like a dead fish while you pleasure me."

She kissed her without protest. Charlotte's tongue tangled with hers and it shut her up. After a time, Isabella lady down next to her and Charlotte drifted to sleep in the crook of her arm. Isabella kissed her once more on the forehead and then covered them both with a quilt, being careful not to wake her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. Some ladybusiness!
> 
> Also, if you all need some lols...this was of course the chapter I left wide-ass open on the shared work computer. I have access to a computer in an office, but God forbid I use that one to write vulgar fanfiction.


	17. Chapter 17

"What are you doing here?" Fanny asked Emily accusingly as they both approached Lady Fitz's house at the same time on a dreary afternoon.

"I'm here to see Lady Fitz. What are you doing here?" Emily attempted to ask her being equally accusatory.

"I'm here to see Charlotte," she answered as if it were obvious, which it was quite obvious. "Also Lady Fitz. They're my friends."

"Oh...of course," Emily mumbled, embarrassed. "Well, good to see you, Fanny, and you too Kitty," she said to the child clutching Fanny's hand and also reaching to pet a cat that was sitting just inches from her grasp.

They were let inside and one of the scrawny cats scooted in with them causing the doorman to sigh loudly. He didn't even bother trying to chase it down. Fanny and Kitty were taken to Charlotte's room and Emily was instructed to wait in the parlor. Isabella had her wait for what felt like half an hour. She paced around the room while Isabella doted on Kitty. She'd told Hal what she was doing - spying for her ladyship. He said it was fine as he had no obligations to Mrs. Quigley. She was going to do it either way, but she was glad he approved. It was money, so of course, he approved.

Margaret ended up reminding Isabella that Emily Lacey was waiting and had been for quite some time. She frowned dramatically and handed the child off to her then left the room. Charlotte laughed and then said to Fanny as Isabella stepped out, "Decorate the Greek Street house as you like. Let Isabella pay for it. It makes her happy, and it's your house. Coat the banisters in gold leaf for all I care."

"What do you mean?" Fanny looked at her blankly.

"I mean that I can't run a house from here," Charlotte told her in a rare moment of seriousness.

"You were always my best girl, Fanny," Margaret added. She said that to everyone and everyone knew it, but it made Fanny smile no less. 

"But Mrs. Wells, now that you're back..." she started to protest.

"I'm dead, remember? Now you run that house right. You learned from my mistakes, especially treat this little one right," she nodded to Kitty.

"She's telling you not to sell her virginity," Charlotte said bluntly.

"I can't accept it. I can't accept any of this. It's madness. And what about you, Charlotte?" Fanny protested more than she'd ever protested anything before in her life. She had never been someone to talk back or argue.

"I'll manage. I can't even attempt to walk for months and even then...the doctor still isn't sure, so you can't wait around for me, and you and my girls can't keep crowding Harriet. None of you are exotic enough for her house. My Pa can be your bully, and if you have mice you can take some cats. I hear there's a bunch of cats outside. I also think some have come inside now." Charlotte shrugged, "If you don't want to change the decor, you don't have to, but if you do, Isabella honestly enjoys helping with such things."

"Fanny, don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Margaret said firmly.

"You'll run it better than I did," Charlotte insisted. "Ma ran a house better than Mrs. Quigley and I ran a house better than Ma, and you'll surely do better than me. We're all here if you need help, and you've got Harriet and Lucy too. You'll do fine, Fanny."

Fanny blushed, "But I don't know what I'm doing, I swear."

"You do, now stop this nonsense before I change my mind," Charlotte told her firmly and she finally gave in and accepted with an uncertain nod.

Isabella had tea brought out for Emily after having made her wait for so long. Emily then gave her the information she'd gotten from Kate, which included Cherry's involvement, and Lydia's insane plot to blackmail her way into the comfortable house. Isabella laughed and was being the polite, not-remotely-threatening woman she'd met originally, "This is absurd. What of the Pinchers?"

"You didn't pay me to spy on them," Emily said, thinking she was being smart.

"Don't try to extort me, Miss Lacey," her voice revealed the slightest iciness. 

Emily cleared her throat, remembering at once how terrifying she could be, and she said, "Isaac's been quiet, sullen. He hasn't left the tavern. Hal wants to buy more taverns, wants me to be a bawd over all the Pincher girls."

"They don't know about Margaret, correct?"

Emily gave her a nod, "Correct. At least not as far as I know and Hal tells me everything."

"Good. Keep it that way. I don't want too many people trying to blackmail me at once and you will tell me the moment the Pinchers break their truce." She pushed some coins across the table toward her but kept her hand on top of them. "If you keep them in line, I won't have to get my hands dirty. I don't want to get my hands any dirtier than I have to in this."

Emily wondered what exactly she meant, but didn't dare ask. She nodded again.

"Hal has no interest in coming after Charlotte or the Greek Street brothel?" Isabella asked.

"None. He didn't want to in the first place. That was all Isaac thinking he could wipe out the competition," she told her. "I really do think it was an accident...Hal pushing Charlotte. He did panic. He dragged me out of here and wouldn't tell me what happened. I don't have issue with Charlotte, I've told you."

"You're not a bad person, Emily," Isabella said kindly and exposed the coin to her. 

"Not a good person either," she said and scooped the money into her coin pouch without hesitation. She couldn't tell from Isabella's face if it had been some sort of test or not. It didn't matter, it was a lot of coin, and she wasn't going to turn it down. It was some of the easiest coin she'd ever made.

As she got up to leave, Isabella added, "I'll pay you to find Cherry Dorrington and send her to me. Tell her I know what she did, that I'll pay her far more than Lydia and that I have pudding."

"Why don't I get pudding?" Emily asked.

"I thought you were only interested in money. I didn't know I could pay you in pudding as well."

"I'd like coin and pudding," she said, unsure if Isabella was joking or not, and also unsure if she herself was joking or not when it boiled down to it.

"Bring me interesting information and I'll let you stay for dinner. See if you can find out when Mrs. Quigley is going to make her final move, for example. I want to be ready for her."

~~~

Harcourt entered the house in Golden Square and Mrs. Harvey greeted him with outstretched arms. She knew he'd come eventually, but found herself feeling unprepared when he did arrive. They embraced like old friends and he kissed her cheeks. She latched quickly onto his elbow to guide him away from the stairs in the event that someone stepped out not fully dressed. It was imperative that she keep him to the part of the house where they would only fit him for a new jacket and breeches.

She asked flirtatiously, "What brings you here, Marquess?"

"I wanted to see what my sister invested in exactly," he answered pensively, his lips pursed. "I recalled that I had met you at her house. I didn't know she had an interest in business. I hope you're not fleecing her. She's not very bright and I'm sure her money is running out by now with how much she's spending on that shameful lover of hers that is surely taking advantage of how simple she is." This all rolled seamlessly off of his tongue and he gazed around the room. She didn't argue with him and he carried on, "Goodness, I like what you've done to the place. It's very different. I wouldn't even know this had been Mrs. Quigley's house. It is quite the celebration of the...male form."

"Thank you," she smiled widely and continued to keep him going the direction she wanted him to go. He followed quite willingly. "I do love the male form. Would you like us to take your measurements while you're here? On the house. Then you can look at a selection of our best fabrics if you like. Pick one out for a new overcoat, perhaps? We just received some exquisite new silks from my supplier."

"Why, yes," he said excitedly, his attention seeming to shift entirely, and then she led him to a private fitting room. As she stepped out she gave the signal that this was to be purely tailoring and not even to imply anything more. 

She scurried through the house and found Lucy then said to her with some urgency, "Well, Harcourt Fitzwilliam is here being fitted for an overcoat."

Lucy looked up from the paper.

"I don't know if he's actually interested in a jacket or if he's up to something," Elizabeth told her.

"The latter. Maybe both. Isabella was right," she sat the paper down and looked seriously at Elizabeth. "Carry on with him. Go through all of the motions of his overcoat. Set up an appointment for him to return and tell me when it is."

"Lucy, are you scheming something?" Elizabeth put her hands on her hips, surprised but impressed. She answered her own question, "You're scheming with Lady Fitz. Isabella keeps nothing quiet and she planned all of this, didn't she? My God, it's why it was so easy to get her to buy out Mrs. May."

"Now you're scheming with us and I'll explain later. If I explain today, I don't think you can pull off this ruse," she smirked and went back to the paper.

"You doubt my acting abilities? Truly, Miss Wells?" Elizabeth was much more amused by this than Lucy expected. Her curiosity had been aroused fully and she was intrigued even more by Isabella, by this mysterious rivalry between the siblings, and by the repeated trickery that Lucy engaged in. She had truly thought Lucy was an innocent little thing and how wrong she had been. She did exactly as instructed by her young business partner. Harcourt seemed none the wiser to the actual nature of the house and without fail he selected the most expensive of her new silk and in deep purple.

~~~

Fanny sent for Harriet and Jack to come to St. James's to celebrate her new bawdy house once she'd finally fully accepted it after a few drinks. Margaret agreed to keep quiet and be civilized with Harriet, in spite of any lingering resentment toward her. Harriet also agreed not to bring up the murder of Lord Howard and that whole debacle.

"I can't believe it," Harriet said gleefully and raised her glass for a toast. "To Fanny, Greek Street's newest bawd."

Everyone raised their glasses and cheered.

Nancy slipped out after the toast, as Charlotte's room was quite crowded, much more crowded than she liked. She took an entire bottle of gin with her and slipped out almost unnoticed. Isabella noticed, excused herself, and followed her up the main staircase where she sat down at the top. Isabella struggled with her huge dress and sat down next to her while Nancy laughed at her with abandon. She offered the lady the bottle and asked, "You ever sit on these steps?"

"Perhaps as a child, but I'm fairly certain I've never sat on any steps."

Nancy chuckled, "I sat up here with Will the night of Charlotte's accident."

Isabella took the bottle and looked at it for a while, unaccustomed to not having a glass. She sipped it uncertainly and passed it back.

Nancy smiled widely at her and said, "I never liked wearing those dresses."

"I can't even imagine you in such a thing," Isabella said in awe. "It wouldn't go with your birch rods at all."

"I never put one on again as soon as I got free of Lydia Quigley. Never wore a wig again either."

"Will you tell me what she did to you?" Isabella asked her softly.

Nancy felt she genuinely wanted to know and so she told her about her stint in the Quigley house and her escape with Mags, how they got Lydia beaten for kidnapping. Isabella then told her what she knew of Mrs. Quigley and of her newest blackmail idea. Nancy took a long drought of the gin and said, "I think you might be completely mad, but I'm on board. She's no one to miss her with her son out of town. So long as that milksop doesn't come back, I think you've got her."

Isabella didn't argue and Mr. North and Jack Lively climbed the stairs to join them shortly after. The men sat down a couple of steps below them and Jack reached for the gin bottle from Nancy. She handed it to him and Mr. North observed with a good-natured laugh, "We're an odd bunch here, aren't we?"

"Aye," Nancy looked from person to person. "But we've got an awful lot in common too, I think."

Mr. North agreed, took the gin from Jack had a sip and handed the bottle back to him. He took a long drink then sat quietly for a time in front of Isabella. The drink dangled between his knees and he hung his head. Mr. North took the gin back then clapped him on the shoulder. "Lighten up, boy. It's been a good day."

"What's eating you, Jack?" Nancy asked and kicked him with her boot.

"He's fallen for Harriet," Mr. North told them.

"Oh, no," Nancy said sarcastically. "I had no idea. He had done such a good job keeping it a secret."

Isabella began, "She's the mistress of-"

"Oh, I know," Jack said dejectedly before she could finish. "I don't know how you do it, Will."

Before Mr. North could speak, Isabella chimed back in again. She was slightly offended he had addressed Will at not her, but she maintained her normal politeness, "At the end of the day, when it's all done, she comes back to you, doesn't she? She doesn't spend the night with them. That's worth something. It's worth a lot, really."

Will nodded and handed her the gin, "Harriet's nowhere near the mighty, confounding beast that is Margaret Wells nor Charlotte for that matter."

"She got started later than the rest of us," Nancy told him. "She wasn't broken...at least not in the same way. She really did choose her work."

Isabella sipped the gin and then tapped Jack on the shoulder with the bottle to pass it back to him.

"Don't skip me," Nancy elbowed her. "I'm next."

"He looks like he needs it more though," she protested in his favor.

Jack turned, took the bottle, and looked up at Isabella, "How'd you manage to get Charlotte to quit, your ladyship?"

"I didn't. It was her idea and as far as I know, she got the idea today," she answered him honestly. "Have you not met her? She does as she pleases, even with two broken legs and confined to a room in my house. I've never asked her to quit and I never would. I'd never force her to choose...between anything really."

"Not even you and Isaac Pincher?" He asked.

Nancy snatched the gin from him, "Damn, Jack."

Isabella didn't mind, "No. I could never do that to her. I don't own her. She's not my property."

"If I could get rich, I could-"

Mr. North gave him a jostle and took the gin away from Nancy. He took a swallow and handed it off to Isabella, "It's not about that. This is one of the only businesses a woman can run - truly run. Harriet's smart and she's not impulsive like these Wells women. Be thankful for that."

"Speaking of Wells women," Nancy directed all of their attention to the base of the stairs where Lucy was looking up at them curiously and removing her gloves. "The most decent of them has joined the party."

"Come up here, Luce," Mr. North invited her up, jovially. "We've got fancy gin."

"What's going on here?" She asked as she ascended the stairs.

"Just giving poor Jack some advice for dealing with his affections for a woman in a certain profession," Nancy told her.

"Ah," she laughed, "Well, I'm here to bring news to Lady Fitz regarding her foul brother. Give me the fancy gin."

"Why don't I get us glasses?" Isabella said as Mr. North handed off the bottle. "We can drink like civilized people."

"We're not civilized people," Nancy leaned over and whispered, slightly drunk, and explained. "Also, we're bonding."

Lucy's brow furrowed and she smiled then handed the bottle to Nancy, "Do they know about your plot, Isabella?"

"A second plot?" Nancy asked intrigued, she took a drink and passed it along.

"I don't know about the first plot," said Will.

"Plotting seems to be what she does when she leaves during the day," Nancy informed him.

Isabella shrugged. "It's really all one large plot with several smaller plots that tie together," she corrected. "Share the news. Tell them my plot that you're tangled in, Lucy."

"You really are completely mad," Nancy said after hearing the second of Isabella's schemes that she'd become aware of that day. "I always knew it was the quiet, nice ones I needed to look out for. Tell them your plot for Quigley now."

"Later, it's time for dinner," she smirked. When she stood her dress engulfed Nancy and they all laughed as Nancy swatted at the fabric before being able to stand.

~~~

Isabella took her dinner with Charlotte, as always. Everyone else continued with their festivities and Isabella bade them farewell. She told Charlotte of all of the events of the day. Charlotte enjoyed it. She'd accepted that she would have to live vicariously through Isabella for the time being.

"Poor Jack," Charlotte said. "Harriet likes him. He needs to relax before he ruins it. You know, you're the only person I've ever been with that didn't act a fool about my...work. Even when I was with your repulsive brother."

She groaned, "Don't remind me of that. I assure you I didn't enjoy it. I'm just accustomed to being forced to keep my mouth shut no matter how I feel. I was just grateful for...you."

"Any word of Sophia?" Charlotte then asked, shifting the subject. Isabella sometimes managed to accidentally make her feel bad. She was sure she didn't mean to. Charlotte began to realize that perhaps, maybe, she just felt bad about some of the shit she'd done. Perhaps, it was merely Isabella who made her realize this. And maybe, this was one of the things that made Isabella so different from everyone.

Isabella shook her head, "Nothing."

"If I weren't stuck here, I'd find her for you. If it took days, I don't care, I would find her and I'd tell her to come home." She pointed to her left leg, "I don't know if you've noticed, but that leg doesn't look so bad since they stuck it in this box I complain about constantly."

"Of course I've noticed." She faked offense at the implication, but then asked seriously, "Do you know anyone that can look for Sophia outside of London? Anyone for me to contact that I haven't already? Anyone?"

Charlotte thought for a moment, "Reach out to Lord Repton. Give my regards to him and his wife. He's disgusting, but not a complete monster. You've not done well forming connections in your own circle over the years, have you?"

"I'm loved in yours," she laughed. "Because I give money to everyone."

"And I'm loved in yours because I gave my cunny to everyone, so let's play my cards now. Some of my old culls surely still have some affection toward me and my legs will conjure some guilt here and there."

Isabella grimaced, but good-naturedly, "I can't believe I'm going to ask a bunch of people you've fucked for favors."

"Be grateful. Didn't you just say that?" Charlotte shoved a wad of bread into her mouth and looked at her with her eyebrows raised.

"You're unbearable sometimes, you know," Isabella said with a smirk and sipped on her glass of wine.

"It's endearing."

"For now." She then asked, "Why'd you give your house to Fanny?"

"Why not? She's kind. She cares for all of the girls and she deserves a chance to make a life for her daughter. You know I'm stuck here for months with my legs as they are. I can't run a house, and..." Charlotte's voice trailed off. "And maybe I don't have a taste for it anymore. It makes it a bit hard to pretend after not having to pretend." Isabella remained smirking at her and she quickly added, "Don't let it go to your head. I'll find something else to do. Maybe I'll write a book."

"You can help me run my molly house."

Charlotte burst out laughing, "God, I'd nearly forgotten you're Lucy's business partner owning a molly house."

"Quit talking about me," Lucy came in through the noisy, off-kilter door. She looked back at the door with a scowl, "Pa really did ruin that door."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: I need to handle the Marquess of Blayne so upcoming chapters will contain mentions of rape and incest. I'm assuming everyone reading watches the show and this won't be a surprise, but ya know, brace yourselves because it might get shitty.

Cherry showed up early the next day, looking apprehensive. She immediately began apologizing profusely to Lady Fitz and rattling off excuse after excuse for her behavior. Lady Fitz, of course, immediately asked her to stop blathering.

"Cherry," she said, "You know how to survive. I can't fault you for that. Nor can I fault Emily Lacey. I suppose I shouldn't fault Lydia Quigley either, but she blackmailed me for years and plans to do so again. Now come in, I have a proposition for you."

She let out a mighty sigh of relief but said, "Please don't make me spy on Mrs. Quigley. It will be exhausting to spy on you both for each other. I don't think my poor heart could handle it."

"No, I've a separate task for you," Isabella said. Emily was her Quigley spy and Cherry actually had a role to play that was much different. "Do you want pudding?"

With a nod, she said, "It's why I came. I was on the fence until Emily mentioned the pudding, honestly."

Isabella stated, "You're very honest, for a very dishonest person."

"And I like you, for a rich person," Cherry said.

"You're not the first person to say that," she motioned for her to follow.

"But I bet I am the shortest."

Isabella, caught off guard, let out a chuckle, "Yes."

They sat together on a sofa in the parlor. Tea was brought out as well as pudding for Cherry, who then confessed. "I don't know what to make of you."

"What do you mean?"

Cherry shrugged her shoulders, "You're too nice. You are truly a paragon of grace, I think."

"Thank you?" She said unsurely.

"I can't tell if you're manipulating me or not. Maybe you're just bribing me very politely."

She smiled just slightly at Cherry, "I know how to survive as well, but I had to learn to survive differently." She took a sip of her tea and said, "Which is, interestingly, related to your task."

"Is it dangerous?" Cherry asked and shoveled pudding into her mouth not caring for the seriousness of the conversation that she'd brought on herself.

"Possibly."

"Do I get dinner since it's dangerous?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"Of course. Dangerous tasks always come with dinner."

She was pleased and said, "Hot meats tonight? A quality last supper before my death?"

"Yes, and I've also secured a place for you at Greek Street if you want it and if you survive."

Cherry swallowed and gasped a little, "You did what?"

"You're one of Fanny's girls now. You've got a home and a wealthy supporter because all of Fanny's girls are Charlotte's girls, and I'm rather fond of Charlotte as you know. It's not Golden Square, but it's not a dirty tavern either, and I'm refurbishing the place to be the nicest bawdy house on that side of town."

"You don't seem like a real person," Cherry said quickly. "You seem like a fake person. Like someone that was made up to be better than all the other people."

Isabella smiled sadly and said in her eerily calm, quiet tone, "If that were true then surely my brother would not have raped me at any point in my life."

Losing her appetite, Cherry put the pudding down. Her spoon clattered from the bowl and to the floor. After it quieted, there was an awkward silence before she finally spoke again, "What is it you would have me do, Lady Fitz?"

~~~

Lydia watched Emily Lacey buzzing around the tavern. She had a nice feather in her hair and was wearing an awfully nice necklace. She'd been buzzing very close to her recently and she was beginning to grow suspicious that perhaps the twit was spying on her. She wondered who she could be spying for - Mrs. May, perhaps? Mrs. May had been surprisingly disinterested in them since their disappearance and surely she had gotten wind of their location. Her disinterest was maybe due to having a spy. What about the Marquess of Blayne? How much did he want Kate really? Surely he would recruit a better spy than Miss Lacey. Or could Lady Fitz possibly be up to something? Emily wasn't smart enough to spy for herself and that was for certain. She didn't think Lady Fitz much of a schemer, but Charlotte Wells, yes. The combination of those two women had been a dangerous one previously. Could they be planning to counter her blackmail plot? Certainly not because there was no way they could know about it unless Cherry had become a double-agent.

She'd also noticed the bandaged head of one of the Pincher brothers. What had he gotten himself into? She wondered. He had barely spoken to anyone since he emerged with this mystery injury. She swore she overheard the brothers talking about Mr. Young though, griping at each other - they griped a lot when they did speak. Could Mr. Young have any relation to Mrs. Young, who was actually Mrs. Wells? Lydia pondered this deeply over her bowl of tavern gruel. 

Kate sat next to her, obviously suffering from ennui, her elbow propped on the table and her chin cradled in her hand. She said absently, "I'm growing very tired of sitting in this tavern. The Pinchers have asked me to work for them no less than sixty-seven times. I might take them up on it out of sheer boredom." Lydia wasn't paying attention to her at all and was lost in her own thoughts again, "We're going to run out of money soon. I'd at least be making money." Kate looked at her and wondered exactly how little she was paying attention. "With my own money, I could buy your house back and start my own brothel without you. I could get some virgins and a few girls no one would miss and sell them to be murdered. That's correct, isn't it? That's how you do things?"

"Mmhmm," Mrs. Quigley responded affirmatively.

Kate wondered if she'd even notice if she got up at this point. She could slip right out perhaps. She could make her greatest escape since Bedlam. She stood up and went to the bar, taking a seat there instead. She couldn't abandon her. 

Emily came over to her and asked, "Any idea when Mrs. Quigley is going to execute this brilliant plan of hers yet?"

"No idea. I fear she's forgotten about it. We're going to live here forever," Kate said dejectedly.

"You can stay, but she has to go. She's too old to be a Pincher girl. Also, I still hate her. I can't believe you're still with her. You can do better."

"You're better?"

"Of course. I won't force you to be something you're not and I won't sell you for rich people bloodsport. That's better, right?"

With a shrug, she said, "She hasn't done anything to me, except provide me with food and shelter. Perhaps she has changed. Besides, I can't...I don't know. I think she really cared for Charlotte at the very least. There was something there, and-"

"No," Emily denied it wholeheartedly. "There's a wee prune where her heart used to be. Nothing more."

"I'd still be in Bedlam if not for her, and I can't bring myself to abandon her. I'm all she has."

"She'd still be in Bedlam if not for you, Kate," Emily tried to correct her. "But based upon what you just said, you're not fit to survive in London alone," Kate said nothing and Emily carried on, running her mouth, which is what she was best at aside from playing the male instrument. "She has a son. Has she not mentioned him?" The surprised look on Kate's face made her laugh spitefully. "He's a buffoon, but he's still her son. He's on the run. I don't know where he's gone. Has she tried to find him at all or is she just hellbent on moving in with Lady Fitz?"

Kate was surprised she had a son, but not surprised that Lydia failed to mention his existence. The woman was a master at picking and choosing what she shared with her. She admitted, "She's said nothing of him."

"What's she up to?" Emily nodded back to the woman.

Kate turned and saw Lydia talking to herself or perhaps talking to her bowl of gruel - it was hard to say which. She groaned, got up, and rejoined the woman. Lydia didn't notice when she'd left nor when she returned. She was becoming increasingly confident that she could just leave if she really wanted to. She wasn't sure where to go if she did leave, and of course, she still felt some obligation to her, and now Emily Lacey told her she wouldn't make it in London. Lydia was muttering something to herself over and over that Kate couldn't make out as she was speaking far too quickly. She placed a hand on her shoulder and asked, "Are you alright?"

Lydia jumped, startled out of whatever was going on in her head, and she finally noticed her. Her eyes were a bit glazed over. "Yes. I'm fine. Why do you look so worried?"

"I'm going to go to the market," she told her and didn't answer the question she'd posed.

"You mustn't. What if you run into Mrs. May or the Marquess. You must stay in," Lydia told her firmly. "They're dangerous."

She let out a dramatic moan and sprawled back in the chair, throwing her arms out as if being crucified. Several patrons turned to look at her and Hal stopped what he was doing and raised an eyebrow.

Lydia chided her, "Behave yourself. We're in public."

~~~

"Nancy, come with me," Isabella said a few nights later and motioned for her to follow. "Get your hat. We're going out."

"What?" She stood up from the table and followed without hesitation although she was in the middle of dinner. She was, in fact, still chewing a mouthful of fish, "Where're we going?"

No one had come in and no messages had come for Isabella as far as anyone knew.

Everyone stopped eating and watched them leave, but then picked up again after they were clear of the room. Margaret commented, "It's a bit late. What do you think it is?"

Mr. North shrugged and said, "Likely one of Isabella's elaborate plots. She's much better at plots than you. She's woven a very tangled web around us."

"You in love with her now, Will?"

He rolled his eyes, "I hope you're joking, Mags. You gonna throw her out of her own house?"

"I am joking," she said defensively. "Charlotte would kill you before I did. Break her own legs all over again."

A large black and white cat lept onto the dinner table and ended the awkward discussion. Jacob exclaimed, "Bootsy! The dinner table is not for cats!"

Margaret and Will looked at once another and Will laughed riotously, "Isabella worried about the cats with the carriages out front. Have you seen the doormen let them in and out as they please?"

"What have we done?" She whispered. "We have hot meals cooked for us, Charlotte's reading a bunch of books, Lucy is the only Wells woman that's a bawd, Nancy is off galavanting with an obscenely wealthy woman in the middle of dinner, and our son has a bunch of cats."

"Could be worse," he shrugged and forked several potato chunks into his mouth with a grin.

"But I didn't prepare for any of this."

Will laughing, "Shut up for once in your life, Mags. Just let things be."

Meanwhile, in the foyer, Nancy grabbed her hat. Isabella nodded to her bundle of rods that she kept by the door and she picked them up as well. A carriage was waiting for them out front. Nancy climbed in and Isabella after her. As soon as the door was closed she said, "I've gotten word of Sophia's whereabouts. She's been in London still this entire time and I think my brother is having our letters intercepted."

"How did you hear?" Nancy asked.

"Any correspondences regarding her were instructed to be brought to me very discreetly in case my brother was watching, which no doubt he is. I heard this morning, a note came, and could wait no longer. She may be staying at some inn near the docks and we're going to see."

"I would've come with you right away. Why did you wait all day?" Nancy asked, befuddled.

"If I'd left immediately after receiving a letter, my brother would suspect. He'd have me followed. He'd also have me followed if I left alone with Mr. North."

"Damn, you are patient," Nancy said, astounded again by this woman.

"Suffering in silence for decades is very helpful for one's patience."

"What happened to you? I know something did. Something bad," Nancy said abruptly and without tact, but not caring. They'd been through enough by now. All pretenses had been lost long ago.

"We're going to look for my bastard child," she reminded her.

"Aye, that we are. Now go on, tell me the rest," Nancy urged.

Isabella told her the same story she told Charlotte, but she did so with a straight-face, just stating the facts. In the end, her emotionless facade broke slightly when she saw only caring in Nancy's eyes. She'd always expected revulsion from everyone but she had yet to receive such a response, even in the slightest. Not a single person blamed her or told her it was her fault. If there was any revulsion it was directed at her brother. "Charlotte, and you all, you're the only people that understand."

"No, you're just the only one with the balls to speak up."

"I haven't spoken up," she said, disappointed in herself. "I've only told a handful of people."

"You've not remained silent. That's speaking up in my book. Plus, secrets don't stay secret in this town if you've told Cherry Dorrington, you idiot."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"Could've asked," Nancy said flatly. "I know everyone."

Grabbing her hand, Isabella said, "Thank you, as always. A little unsavory rumor may vex him momentarily, but I fear he'll ultimately turn it against me."

"Not right now, he won't. You're adored by the masses and there's a hell of a lot more poor than there are rich. Imagine the riots on your behalf," Nancy grinned. "I once led a riot. I'd like to have cause to do it again."

"It got you whipped in the street," she said with the utmost concern.

"Oh, you heard about that? Did you know who I was when you met me?"

"Yes, I keep up with the news. Thank you."

Nancy acted flattered, "No. Thank you."

"Reputation can flip like a coin for people like me if my foul brother makes me out to be some succubus that seduced him. He can have my fortune taken away and have me locked in Bedlam and you know it."

She scoffed, "Do you doubt my ability or my willingness to riot for you? I started a riot for a dead harlot. You will have a human wall surrounding your home. Again, there are more of us than there are of them."

"What happened to her? I never heard." Isabella said suddenly and with compassion.

"Pox, among other things, but mostly the pox and laudanum."

"You knew her?"

"She was one of Mags' girls then she went to Quigley in spite of our warnings...and Quigley put her on the street, I suppose. I don't know," Nancy made a sad face. "She wasn't right in the head when I last saw her. She was a kind girl before that. Mags was hard on her."

"I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean much," Isabella said to her. "I'm sorry about everything."

"It means a lot because I know it's not bullshit coming from you." Nancy studied her carefully, "Mags and me, we went through hell and came out, but then Mags was hard on a lot of girls, not excluding her daughters."

Isabella sighed and said, "I know. Charlotte's told me."

"And you don't hate Mags?"

She shook her head, "Neither do you. Neither does Charlotte or Lucy. She meant to set up and be a better bawd than Lydia Quigley, not better with money, but better to her girls and I think she did that as best she could. Change isn't ever overnight."

"Seems an endless cycle to me. Women destroying women for the sake of men." Nancy looked at her and smiled, "Charlotte got out and now Luce is running a molly house of all things. Perhaps it ends with them. At least our small circle of it, but now we've got pimps moving in like those blasted Pinchers."

"And Fanny and Kitty," Isabella reminded her dejectedly.

"Fanny's better than us, so's Harriet. They won't force their daughters into anything."

"Not if I can help it," she mumbled.

Nancy prodded at her, "What are you thinking of doing now?"

"Everything's taken care of. Don't worry yourself over it," said Isabella.

"Why are you so determined to save us all? Not all of us want to be saved."

"Because there was no one to save me," she whispered. Then before Nancy could respond, the carriage clattered to a stop and Isabella said, "We're here."

When they exited the carriage Nancy looked Isabella up and down and said, "Wait out here. I'll go in. Do you not own any less wide dresses and less tall wigs? You stick out like a sore thumb. You knew we were coming to the docks for fuck's sake."

"Only a dear friend would say that," Isabella called after her as she entered the inn. She paced outside. Several sailors passed her. One was too drunk to even notice, the second did a double-take, but kept going and a third stopped in front of her, looked as if he was going to ask her something and then moved on before doing so. 

She heard some shouting from inside and then a ruckus like chairs crashing. She moved farther from the door and a moment later, Nancy burst out.

"She's not here. Back in the carriage," she mumbled and straightened her hat, which was askew.

"What happened?" Isabella asked as she climbed back in after Nancy.

Nancy didn't answer and instead asked her own question, "Who told you she was here and what exactly did they tell you? Because I am fairly certain you were meant to be ambushed."

"Ambushed?"

"Aye."

As the carriage pulled away, Isabella said, "I told everyone not to sign their letters because if they were intercepted I didn't want my brother retaliating. This was surely Harcourt's doing, but what would he gain from such a thing other than tormenting me?"

~~~

Knowing he was tormenting his sister was exactly what Harcourt hoped to gain. He had paid a number of unsavory and burly men to give a good scare to anyone coming into the inn asking for someone named Sophia. The underlying reason for desiring to torment his sister was so that she would come to visit him and accuse him of this so he could further torment her. He couldn't go to St. James's because he was very determined to act like he had no further interest in her or her life when in actuality she was all he thought about lately.

He ate his dinner alone and chewed very slowly. An amused smile slithered across his face as he thought about the group of men accosting the delicate woman in the rough tavern. It would certainly give her a fright, followed by disappointment that her daughter wasn't there, and she would quickly put together that it had been a ruse. He liked to say she was simple and daft, but he knew she was not either of those at all. She had always been his equal in cunning, as well as in wealth. His only advantage over her was that he was born a man and he knew that fact this in the back of his mind. With her having access to her inheritance, the playing field had leveled out a bit. 

He believed he was closing in on Sophia while Isabella, on the other hand, had nothing. He needed to rub this in her face. He wanted to get to the bottom of this tailoring nonsense too and find out the status of Charlotte Wells' legs. In truth, he was very interested in his sister and her life just as he had always been. He was bothered that she was not bothered by his feigned disinterest. He thought she would have come back to him long before now. He didn't believe she could truly be so enrapt in Charlotte. Charlotte, although fascinating, was just a whore. Charlotte was whatever anyone wanted her to be. How long could she keep it up?

He was also still very interested in Mrs. Quigley's Kate. He had located the two of them at Saracen's Head, but he wouldn't be caught dead in such a place. Mrs. Quigley was keeping a very watchful eye on this girl and it seemed that no amount of money would make her release her Venus for his use. He didn't know she was so adept at holding a grudge over a little misunderstanding. He had not yet figured out how to pry the girl out of the woman's grasp.

Thinking about the grasp of women, he laughed and choked slightly on his fish. He couldn't help but imagine his dear, sweet sister and that exquisite whore Charlotte Wells together. How in the world had that happened exactly? It both angered and excited him. What he wouldn't give to have them both, even Charlotte with her now twisted legs. He doubted she would be able to fake her love of the act as well as before, but her screaming in agony was equally appealing to him. If he could just get Isabella under his thumb again. 


	19. Chapter 19

Isabella, though fully convinced that her brother was behind the cruel trick played on her, did not give in and visit him. She concluded quickly that this was his plan all along and she wouldn't give him the pleasure of thinking he'd won even slightly. He wanted her to storm into his house accusing him of the trickery, so she would not. She needed to always stay a step ahead of him and she would not address it at all. Certainly, it would make him squirm, and she wanted to make him squirm. She mostly wanted to make him writhe in agony, but squirming would work for now.

She had more important matters to attend to as it was. Charlotte's nurse and her doctor had deemed it time to adjust her splints in an attempt to straighten out her right leg more.

Charlotte squeezed Isabella's hand until it hurt, but Isabella said nothing and made no indication of her own discomfort. Changing the splints supporting her right leg had been tedious and painful. Her left leg was doing well, but the number of fractures in her right leg and their locations were not ideal. He said it may be necessary to bleed her right leg soon and that he had several contacts interested in constructing a leg brace for her later, based on one for rickets, but not as heavy, and as long as the breaks healed well. His contacts were in Paris. Isabella gave the go-ahead for all procedures and said she would address the matter of Paris later. Her right leg was doomed to several more months of being held straight and still anyway.

The entire morning was a blur of pain for Charlotte and she kept refusing anything more than alcohol for it, the stubborn creature that she was. Isabella stayed with her until she fell asleep and then stepped out of the room to pace the hall and think on other matters, such as a pardon for Margaret and where next to search for Sophia.

"Thank you for everything," Margaret said to her when she returned to the room sometime later. "You're a godsend."

"I'm nothing of the sort," she said to her humbly.

Charlotte wanted to comment, to argue with her, but she couldn't. The pain in her leg was excruciating and she felt utterly exhausted. She remained still and tried to sleep again. She couldn't even bear to open her eyes, but she did hear them. She wanted to thank her Ma for not being a cunt.

"I always thought Charlotte would eventually find a good man like I found my Will...and Jonas," she added on with some regret. "I never thought her good man would be a good woman."

Isabella knew she meant this kindly. She said, "And I never thought the one to free me from my prison would be a courtesan. I had been waiting for years for a knight in shining armor."

"If I've heard the tale correctly, in the end, you freed yourself from your prison."

"Perhaps, but I never could have without her. If Lydia Quigley had not been arrested and had not sent Charlotte to extort me..." Isabella's voice trailed off and she laughed. "I have Mrs. Quigley to thank for all this."

Margaret laughed along with her, "Hopefully you'll get to thank her soon."

"Yes, I do hope so."

~~~

Out of breath, Emily babbled at Isabella immediately after being brought inside a few days after Charlotte's re-splinting. She made no effort to move into the parlor or to sit. She rattled it all off in the foyer, "Quigley means to execute her plan tonight...and I...I fear that the Pinchers may know that Mrs. Young and Mrs. Wells are one and the same...but I'm not certain."

"And you ran here?" Isabella looked at her sympathetically. "I didn't mean to make you feel it was so urgent."

She nodded and leaned forward, putting her hands on her knees, "But I...believe I may have finally turned Kate against her. I'm not sure of anything. Kate told me she overheard Hal and Mrs. Quigley...something about the land deal with Mr. Young. Kate was unsure and...she said...she only heard part of the conversation as well. Regardless...she's coming tonight."

Isabella's eyes narrowed at this thought. She continued speaking calmly to Emily, who came to her as if this were life and death, "Would you like some tea, Miss Lacey? Or to take a seat for a few minutes?"

"No, I need to get back...before they realize I've gone..." she started back for the door. 

"Your payment, Miss Lacey," Isabella reminded her.

She shook her head, "No...it doesn't matter..."

"Wait a moment, Emily," Isabella looked at her curiously, but spoke quickly because it seemed very urgent that she be on her way. "Will you carry a message to Lucy Wells for me? It is somewhat pressing, but needn't be done today if you don't have the time. I no longer trust letters not to be intercepted."

Emily nodded, "Quick."

"Tell her to bring Mr. Croft with her when she next visits."

Emily nodded again. She opened the door and slipped out before Isabella could produce any money for her. Isabella followed her and she had already made it across the street. She wondered if Emily considered at all that she would be questioned when she returned on account of being drenched in sweat and out of breath. She gave it no additional thought for the time being and informed Mr. North that their very special guest would be arriving later that day if her source were correct.

~~~

Mrs. Quigley looked at Isabella, smiling smugly, "I know you're harboring the fugitive, Margaret Wells, who somehow isn't as dead as she should be." 

Isabella did not allow her beyond the threshold. She did not invite her into the foyer, much less the parlor. She looked back at her, her brow furrowed, she blinked and she asked point-blank, "Are you attempting to blackmail me again, Mrs. Quigley? What do you want?"

"Like the murderer you're housing, I need a place to stay." Kate stood quietly behind her.

Lady Fitz attempted to confirm what was happening, not letting on in the slightest that she was prepared for this, "You're blackmailing me so you can live here, Mrs. Quigley?"

"If that's what you want to call it. I prefer to call it an act of charity from the Queen of the Demimonde for the tragically downtrodden."

She opened the door and stepped aside with a genuine smile, "Come in, Mrs. Quigley."

Lydia grinned and motioned for Kate to follow as she entered.

"Mr. North," Isabella began, "Take this woman to the room I've prepared for her." He emerged from the parlor and nodded obediently. She added, "Stay with her. Ensure she doesn't leave. I'll be there shortly with the key to lock her in."

Mrs. Quigley's smile faded immediately and she muttered, dumbfounded, "What?"

"I'm tired, Mrs. Quigley." She turned to Kate, "You can join us for dinner or go with her. Choose now."

"What's for dinner?" Kate asked.

"Quail...other food..." she wasn't sure.

"Dinner," answered Kate quickly.

"Seems she made her choice," Isabella said to Lydia as she tried to struggle away from Mr. North, who had latched onto her arms and begun taking her toward the stairs. She was no match for the man.

Isabella showed Kate to her room and instructed her about where to find items she needed or where to find people to find items she needed. She then joined Mr. North upstairs. Mrs. Quigley's room was not modest. It was fully-furnished and Isabella informed her through the door that an attendant would bring her meals, take out her chamber pot, stoke her fire as needed, bring her fresh candles, and check on her throughout the day. Even when engaged in kidnapping, Isabella remained an excellent hostess. 

Lydia shouted about being a hostage and a captive and made a number of threats as Isabella locked her in.

"Mrs. Quigley, I merely don't want you roaming around my home," she spoke kindly, which seemed to make the woman even angrier. "Would you like me to require that you have relations with men in order for you to stay here or will you quiet yourself and appreciate your accommodations? I also have plenty of laudanum if I need to put you in a stupor."

She quieted.

"Very good," Isabella said. "Dinner will be brought up to you shortly while it's still warm."

As they descended the stairs, Mr. North asked, "How long do you plan to keep her in there?"

"Until she is completely broken or dead," she answered with an iciness he didn't expect to spill out so suddenly.

He said nothing more until they'd reached the bottom of the staircase when he asked, "Do you trust her girl?"

"Yes, for now at least," she spoke more pleasantly again. "She has a role to play in all this, I'll soon see if she's willing to play it."

"There's more to your plans..." he realized.

"Yes. I can't tell you everything because I fear you will hate me for it." Her voice became sad then, but she quickly picked up again as she greeted Kate and asked, "Is your room to your liking?"

"Yes, your ladyship."

"Isabella, I insist," she said and took her by the elbow into the front parlor and away from Will. When they were alone, she looked at the girl gravely, "I've heard that my brother has interest in you."

She nodded, "He's been nice, I suppose...it was brief, but there is something off about him."

"There's a lot off about him," Isabella told her. "In a few days time, I am going to ask a favor of you. You can feel free to refuse, but you may never tell a single soul. I will not put you out if you do refuse nor will I treat you any less kindly." Kate said nothing and only looked at the woman who was frowning deeply as she spoke, "I want you to help me destroy him once and for all." 


	20. Chapter 20

Isabella lay in bed with Charlotte well after sunrise when she typically rose and dressed before anyone else stirred. She felt very tired. It was difficult for her to sleep well when she feared the slightest leg twitch would jar Charlotte and hurt her right leg that still remained sore. She found herself waking up throughout the night out of worry. She remained satisfied with her kidnapping though. No one was the wiser.

"I have an idea," Charlotte started seriously and she tried very hard to keep a straight face throughout, "You could kill Mrs. Quigley and make her into a nice ragout then serve her to...oh, I don't know, your brother."

Isabella tried not to laugh as well as she said, "How do you know that's not my plan?"

"Because you would have told me."

"I'm still angry with you," she said firmly. "So perhaps I haven't told you everything." She kissed her briefly.

"Good." Then Charlotte pointed toward the laudanum, "Can I have a bit of poison for the day, please? The pain is still ghastly, especially in the mornings."

"I should get up as it is. I don't need all of my guests seeing me in this state of undress," she began to carefully got out of bed.

"Think of who your guests are. We don't care. Just put on your robe and be done with it. Stay in bed with me all day...after you reach the laudanum and the wine," she suggested playfully and grabbed onto the hem of her chemise.

"I can't. I have things to do, and I don't think I've managed to not get dressed every day in about twenty years. Plus I'm expecting a visitor." She leaned down and kissed her again, pushing her hand away.

"A visitor? Who? Emily Lacey? Cherry?" Charlotte asked accusingly as the woman handed her the laudanum bottle and a glass of red wine.

She answered, "Cherry, perhaps."

"You're getting dressed for a tiny harlot?"

Isabella got up from the chair, put her robe on but sat down instead of leaving, "I won't wear a wig, I'll just put on my clothes."

"You're getting dressed every day for a bunch of harlots and my Pa and Jacob," Charlotte reprimanded her and then took a sip of the medicine and then swallowed the entirety of the wine. She handed the bottle and empty glass back to her.

Isabella refilled the wine and said, "Your sister may be stopping by with Mr. Croft."

"Alright, you've won. I'd like you to dress for Mr. Croft. He's no interest in you, from what I've heard, but you may dress for him. No wig. You've no need to dress for Lucy, ever. She got her tits out for her culls all the time and can stand to see you in a nightgown."

"No wig," she agreed. "I'll take the nightgown into consideration on another day."

"I haven't dressed in what? Weeks? It's been wonderful, except that I've also been unable to bathe normally and I'm in pain. Those facts aside, being undressed in your home with you for days on end has been magnificent and I only wish you would also not dress for once and stay in bed with me all day."

"Your Ma and Pa-"

"I grew up in a brothel," she reminded her. "Tits and cocks everywhere since I was a wee, little one."

Isabella blushed slightly, "I will not walk around with my tits out."

"It's your house."

"Drink your wine, I'm going to dress," she got up and left the room, laughing to herself all the while.

Charlotte arranged her pillows to sit up and also laughed. She winced and tried to move her leg, but had to stop. She lay still for a moment, no longer laughing. After a moment, she moved the blanket aside to look at the leg in question. It was still covered in bruises, but they were fading and most of the swelling had gone down. With the swelling down she could see that her lower leg was not shaped correctly anymore. Her thigh hurt the most by far, but it looked better than the rest. She held her breath and carefully re-positioned herself. She could have asked Isabella to help her before she left, but she was determined to maintain at least some of her autonomy in the midst of this. After she sat up completely, she finished her wine and hoped someone else would come in soon to refill her glass or that the laudanum would take effect.

~~~

Lucy and Mr. Croft did stop by, so it was good that Isabella decided against remaining undressed. The two arrived in his carriage and approached the door arm in arm. He was glad to be seen publicly flaunting his fake mistress, especially while visiting Lady Fitz's house which was still being watched closely for any notable comings and goings. 

"What do all of these cats want?" He asked as they were swarmed upon reaching the doorstep by several yowling cats of various sizes and colors.

"My brother has been feeding them from Isabella's kitchens," Lucy explained and knocked.

"Well, then. Any idea what Lady Fitz wants?" He then asked and bent down to pet a small ginger cat, but still held onto her hand.

"Not sure."

"I sense that you're being dishonest," he said white scratching the cat's head.

"You've no room to speak of dishonesty," she smiled as the doorman welcomed them inside.

"I do actually enjoy your company," he confessed as he stood and then they released one another as soon as the door closed behind them and the cat ran inside. "I just don't enjoy it in the bedroom."

"That's why I like you. I'm so tired of fucking," Lucy laughed loudly and ventured ahead of Mr. Croft. She pointed to the cat that entered with them, "I'm not sure what Jacob has called that one. Tiger, I think."

The doorman looked slightly startled but then composed himself again. This caught Croft's attention and made him laugh as well. He removed his hat and followed Lucy.

"My God, Isabella. How much are you paying Emily Lacey to do your bidding?" Lucy asked her when the lady of the house emerged.

"Oddly, she wouldn't accept my money the last time. It hurt me deeply," she said sarcastically.

"Hell's freezing over if Emily Lacey wouldn't take money," she murmured and then Isabella and Mr. Croft greeted one another much more officially.

"I require a large favor," Isabella began after their formalities and the tea was brought to the parlor. "I will repay it tenfold if it can be done or even just part of it."

"Go on," he urged. "I am curious."

"I want Margaret Wells pardoned of the crime she was hanged for," she said bluntly. "A posthumous pardon."

Lucy coughed a bit, having been in mid-swallow of her tea. "What?"

Isabella ignored her, "And I want to tell you about my brother because I've heard that you want to make some sort of difference, that you're a radical."

"Are the two connected?" He asked intrigued.

"Yes, by Lucy."

"What?" She gasped again. "Isabella, what are you doing?"

"I'm doing all the things I said I would," she answered, but did not stop looking at Mr. Croft who had sat down his tea. She liked when people sat down their tea as she spoke to them. That's how she knew she had their attention.

Lucy quieted and the man prompted, "Please explain, Lady Fitz."

So she did. She told him about her brother, about Sophia, and everything she knew of the Spartans. She told him what she knew of Lord Fallon and she explained as best she could why Margaret confessed to the murder of George Howard. She ended with, "I can get more witnesses. I can surely get more people to make statements. Tell me what you need and I will get it."

He looked at Lucy, who had paled and been silent, and questioned her, "Will you speak?"

She looked from him to Isabella and then back at him. She said with surety, "Yes."

Mr. Croft took a deep breath, "I need you to send for Justice Knox. Only Justice Knox. He is a friend."

Isabella stood with no hesitation and she called for Mr. North and sent him on this mission. She sat back down and Lucy grasped her hand, startling her. Mr. Croft looked at them both and said, "I am so tired of the status quo. I am just so tired. I am tired of only those with money receiving justice and how the laws are all made by wealthy men simply to protect themselves."

"You're a wealthy man," Lucy pointed out.

"No...well, yes, but I...can't. I think because of my..." He thought deeply on the words, "Because of my...I've remained separate from...this particular genre of people, and I find I identify more with...the lower classes." He quickly added, "I don't mean to compare my...issues...with the endemic problems of..."

"Quiet," Isabella said, annoyed. "Stop. You don't have to give a speech in this company and my God, I sure hope your actual speeches are better."

Lucy took Mr. Croft's hand and said, "Means to an end."

"The end doesn't always justify the means," he mumbled.

"Then you may need to avert your eyes a bit, Mr. Croft," Isabella said with the same sudden coldness that often caught her companions off guard.

Lucy looked at her warily, but Mr. Croft seemed not to notice. He was deep in his own thoughts of gaining respect by bringing down a Marquess.

Isabella got his attention when she spoke up next, "The person who supplied virgins to him and his friends...the person who sold him girls to murder...what if she would speak?"

"Who?" He asked, curious once more.

"Lydia Quigley." She swallowed hard and stared at him, "I believe I can also get a girl to speak who escaped being murdered. Perhaps."

"My God..." He gasped, "Wait until Knox gets here. This is too much."

"Will Charlotte speak...about her time with Lydia?" Lucy asked Isabella. "About the virgins."

With no hesitation, Isabella answered, "Of course she will."

Mr. Croft apprehensively asked, "You're not bribing people or paying them to speak, are you?"

Lucy glared, but Isabella seemed prepared for this, "No, I just need to convince them that they won't be killed for speaking. It's about gaining trust, not fear. This is how my brother and I are different...one of many ways, but this is a fundamental one. I believe I have friends where he has only lackeys and bootlickers."

"How powerful are the Spartans?" He asked her then.

"More powerful than me, you and your Justice friend, but...if we go after my brother and we succeed, I believe they will wither without him."

Mr. Croft clearly had some apprehension, "How certain are you?"

"Completely. He's treated me as if I were simple my entire life or at least treated me as if he could never imagine me turning against him. He spoke openly about his little gentleman's club in my presence, and he thought so little of me that I was present for some of their little meetings. I can give you names right now. He may have recruited new members since the last time I saw them together."

He looked at her, his expression both horrified and fascinated. 

"What if I can get someone into his house now?" Isabella asked. "Someone who can perhaps get names, meeting times, other plans? He could be caught in the act."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I have someone and I'm arranging it."

He blinked, "What? You are...you are acting as a procurer of flesh...and putting a girl in danger?"

"Avert your eyes then, Mr. Croft," she reminded him.

Lucy pulled her hand away abruptly and looked at Isabella in disbelief, "You wouldn't..."

"What if she's already agreed?" Isabella looked at her and asked her point-blank.

"Who..." She was clinging to Mr. Croft now, seeming afraid of Isabella. Mr. Croft just looked at her trying to read her, make sense of all of the information she'd given him. It was a lot. It was a deep, dark secret of the upper class and he was certain she was not the only one with such a secret. The aristocracy was rotten.

"Kate," Isabella called.

Kate stepped into the room shyly.

Mr. North re-entered without even knocking. He could come and go as he pleased by now. He was followed by the justice who barely had his wig on. Justice Knox appeared absolutely baffled and he asked in his somewhat gruff Scottish accent, "Croft, what is the meaning of all this?"

Mr. Croft gave a brief introduction and then Isabella told her story yet again. She put forth her plan involving Kate, who joined them at the table around the tea that grew cold. Isabella informed him of all of the statements she was certain could be acquired, all of the maybe statements, and some that would take some effort.

"I want to do something useful with my life," Kate said confidently. "If it must be this, then so be it. It may not help, but it's worth trying."

Justice Knox nodded and he looked at Isabella, "This will ruin your family name."

"So be it. I'm still rich. I'll be richer with my brother out of the way. I'll leave England. I don't care as long as I stop him and right some of this."

"If she will sacrifice herself so willingly, why shouldn't I when I am no one?" Kate added, looking directly at the justice.

"You truly volunteer?" He asked, so intrigued by her. "You know the man is a murderer, a raper, and you're going to play the whore?"

She nodded, "I do. Lady Isabella can be the voice for all this because she has the platform that so many lack...the Margarets, the Charlottes, the Nancys. Perhaps someone will listen to someone rich?"

Mr. Croft sighed, "She is right. This is what we've been waiting for."

"If only you were a man," Lucy mumbled.

Isabella added, "I wait only for the word that the deal has been made and Kate will go."

"Tell me when to make my statement," Lucy said to Justice Knox and then, "I want to speak with my sister for a moment." She rose from the table and kissed Isabella on the cheek and whispered, "I am on your side and I am sorry for what has happened to you. Be our voice."

Justice Knox watched her leave very closely, "Her sister is Charlotte Wells, yes? The harlot that fell from your balcony that you keep here?"

Isabella nodded. This was old news.

"Your lover?" He then asked her.

"Yes," she responded without shame.

"I didn't mean to offend if I have. I have long been a friend of Mr. Croft and I admire you. I've been admiring for weeks. You have balls, and now I know you have balls the size of a God damned horse, Lady Fitz."

"Isabella, please," she insisted as had become customary. "And if I had one pound for every time someone complimented my balls I would now have three pounds for it."

Mr. Croft chuckled and couldn't help himself. He then massaged his temples and quelled his laughter, "We need to do this smoothly."

"Pardon Margaret Wells first. That will confuse him. Everyone, really. I will get any required signatures to second your motion," Isabella told him. "Put it forward. I realize that this will all take time. If we move too quickly, my brother will get spooked and either run or retaliate against me."

"Your brother has underestimated you, hasn't he?" Knox asked.

She shook her head, "No. As soon as this happens, he will suspect, which is why I must get Kate into place. I think she reminds him of me, you see." Her lip quivered and no one at the table was certain about whether she was going to scream or cry. A second passed and she did neither, "She is me before he broke me."

"You don't seem broken, your ladyship," Kate said with such naivety that it made Isabella smile.

"You sweet girl. I was broken, but I've been put back together. The thing about being put back together though is that you are still quite broken underneath."

"Your courtesan?" Mr. Croft said with some apprehension.

She turned to him and he thought it would be with rage, but her expression remained soft and her voice equally so, "Yes, Charlotte Wells. You are profoundly interested in us, aren't you, Mr. Croft?"

As if right on cue to put an end to this line of conversation, there was a knock at the door. A few moments later the doorman came in and announced Cherry Dorrington, who strutted in and then bowed extravagantly. When she stood she exclaimed, "Oh, fuck me in the ass! There are real men here!"

"Who is this?" Mr. Croft asked, even more befuddled. This had not been at all what he expected from his day.

"One of my little friends," Isabella told him with a smile.

"Your littlest, I hope," Cherry nagged.

Isabella nodded, "Of course, Cherry. I have yet to befriend a smaller person unless children count."

"I wouldn't've acted a fool had I known you had real men here," she said and glared at her. She then politely and appropriately bowed to each of them and introduced herself accordingly before taking what had been Lucy's seat with them at the table. The men were both cheered by her wit at once and Kate was delighted to see her. Cherry helped herself to the lukewarm tea and eyed Justice Knox. She elbowed Kate and loudly whispered, "I did not think justices looked like that, did you?" Isabella covered her face as Cherry carried on as if no one could hear her. This made Kate laugh endlessly. Isabella smiled behind her hands as she got increasingly lewd. Then said she said, "I have news for her ladyship. I'm unsure if it's for mixed company."

"It's for exactly this company," Isabella told her. "Your timing is impeccable and you can stay for dinner, but I have another request for you."

Cherry sat up straight and slammed her fists on the table, rattling the cups and saucers, "The Marquess of Blayne will pay Mrs. Quigley 150 pounds for the use of Lady Venus, or whatever it is she's being called, for one night. Half upfront, half after she stays the whole night and doesn't vanish into the shadows again. He is willing to make the transaction through me as her emissary. I told him Mrs. Quigley developed a skin condition and does not wish to be seen as you suggested. He believed it all as far as I could tell."

"Done," Isabella nodded and looked at Kate, "You may keep all the coin. I don't need it."

Kate shook her head, "No, Cherry, decide what to do with it. I don't want any of it."

"You're the one making it, take it," Isabella encouraged. "You've not a shilling to your name."

"No," she said firmly. "I don't want his foul money."

The two men exchanged glances and then looked at the women. Isabella said, "Then Cherry, it's all yours. I don't care."

"What your next request, my liege?" She looked at her inquisitively and twiddled her thumbs.

Isabella said, "Well, I have a lot of salted meat and fish, you see. Take it, give it to your friends, give it to people on the street, sell it, do what you like with it."

"What?" Cherry asked because this wasn't remotely what she expected.

"I've got all this damned food. Jacob is feeding it to cats, which is also fine, but I want someone to take some of it to human beings as well," she spoke very slowly and deliberately. "I'm going to give it to you. I will trust you to do what you think is right."

"How much is it exactly?" Cherry asked, "Can I carry it?"

"I'll let you use a carriage. Do what you want."

Cherry eyed her suspiciously then shrugged, "Alright. This is far less dangerous than being the go-between for you and your brother while pretending you're Mrs. Quigley. What's for dinner tonight?"

"Hot venison, potatoes, vegetables..." Isabella eyed her back, "Pudding...and..." She paused and they both stared at one another before Isabella finally said, "I got some bananas."

"Bananas," Cherry gasped.

"Am I invited?" Justice Knox asked.

"So long as my bananas don't look like bribery or this will cast any sort of poor light on what we have planned."

"Nothing unseemly about attending dinner. It's not as if other justices don't dine and play cards with the likes of your brother," he said. "I'm surprised I've avoided you this long. I thought for sure you'd press charges against whoever pushed your companion from your balcony," he added.

"I would have, but my companion has requested I do not," she said spitefully.

"She's going to give a statement, but may I speak with her briefly now?" Justice Knox stood and politely asked. "I want to see if she's of sound mind."

Isabella laughed, "I don't decide who talks to her, she does."

~~~

"You're new," Charlotte observed and sat aside her reading then licked her lips seductively, highly amused by a brand new face. She'd been told exactly who he was.

He sat down in the chair next to the bed and smiled at her. He reached out and took what she had been reading. He looked at it for a moment before asking, "How is it that you are flirting with me with broken legs while reading an essay about eating the poor?"

"Habit. I fell from a balcony. And you interrupted my reading." She smiled and became serious for him, "What do want with me, Justice Knox?"

"I just wanted to meet you before you make your statement," he nodded politely and handed her reading back.

"Sorry for being imprudent. Justices usually look a bit more like justices." She smirked, "You need a different wig."

He squinted at her and touched his wig, making sure it was on straight, "I quite like this one."

"I was told you want to make sure I'm of sound mind. You needed to make sure Lady Isabella isn't keeping me in a laudanum stupor, yes?"

Knox said, "Yes, and I wanted to see if you were truly the woman written about in Harris' List."

"I'm glad he still writes of me and I'm glad a justice reads it. So what's your verdict?"

"You don't seem to be in a stupor," he told her. "Quite the opposite."

"No, about Harris' List," she corrected him. "That's what I care about."

He laughed, "You are certainly clever and not a good choice for a delicate man. You also remain quite stunning for being bedridden."

"Where is my dear Lady Fitz?" Charlotte then asked mischievously, "Did she know you came in to flirt with me?"

"You're the one flirting with me, my lady," he said sternly

She cringed, but still jokingly, "I'm no lady."

He poured himself a glass of wine into a clean glass and poured her one that he offered to her. She took it, sipped, and awaited his response. "Lady Fitz wants me to pardon your mother and she seems interested in destroying her brother and her own family name in the process."

"I am aware," Charlotte said.

"You will make a statement regarding your time as a harlot under Mrs. Quigley as well as your relations with her brother."

"Where's your quill? I'll do it now," she said confidently.

He laughed shakily, "Not today. I just wanted to make certain you had all of your capacities intact, that you knew-"

"I did hit my head when I fell, but it didn't make me daft. It just left this little scar here," she moved her hair aside and pointed to where her skin had been split. "If you've read Harris' List, you'd know I'm the harlot men pay when they want a woman to make them feel stupid."

"Fair," he drank his wine and smiled, entertained. "You're not being coerced? Paid?"

"I mean," she indicated the room. "I'm well cared for, but I'm making the statement of my own volition and will swear to it."

"You are aware that this will ruin the Fitzwilliam family, correct?"

She looked at him over the edge of her glass as she took a sip then answered him flatly, "Oh, no. I will be the morally dubious lover of a very rich woman with a family name tarnished by her monstrous brother."

Knox gazed at her and they sipped their wine quietly for a time before he said, "For what it's worth, I think you chose wisely."

"I've been called clever, but never wise before." She wasn't entirely sure what the man referred to. She asked him, "Are you truly a friend of people like me?"

"What do you mean? Smart women?"

"Very good answer," she tried not to laugh.

"Yes, I am." He sat down his emptied wine glass and said, "I'll be back in a few days time for your official statement. I have other matters to attend to before we begin, and tonight I dine with your friends." 

"With or on?" She asked flatly.

He looked at the essay and said nothing.

She finally gave in and laughed. "I apologize. I hope that didn't make you doubt the soundness of my mind."

Mrs. Wells remained hidden throughout the evening after being informed of the series of events taking place around her. She took her dinner with Charlotte, and Isabella actually spent dinner with her guests. They only had to shoo two cats from the table during the meal. Margaret paced Charlotte's room, befuddled and full of doubt that they could succeed at any of the things they were planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to have the justice in my tale be a generic justice, but Justice Knox is adorbs, so I made some adjustments to accommodate him. I hope this doesn't accidentally generate another sub-plot that I'll have to deal with or else this will never end. ;)
> 
> He would've gotten along swimmingly with Charlotte, I think. lols


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My T key stopped working on laptop (which is what I usually write on when not using shared computers at work, of course). I've still been using it and then editing on my desktop, but I may not catch all of my missing Ts. Forgive me.

Kate went apprehensively to the estate of Harcourt Fitzwilliam, accompanied by Cherry pretending to be acting on behalf of Mrs. Quigley. On their way, Cherry attempted to teach her the fine art of pleasing men. She firmly believed Kate would not be good at it at all.

"He wants me as I am," Kate insisted. "Is this hat on right?" She stopped walking and asked. She'd been messing with the hat pinned to her tall wig the entire way there.

"It's alright," Cherry said and rolled her eyes. Isabella had them dressed very finely in the Quigley fashion.

Harcourt invited them both inside. Cherry looked around, trying to act innocent, but seeing if there was anything of note that she could relay back to Lady Fitz or maybe even steal that he wouldn't miss.

"Does Mrs. Quigley have some manner of pox then?" He asked them. "She didn't look too worse for wear when last I saw her, though that was several weeks ago."

"No pox," Cherry answered unprepared for the details of the imaginary illness. "It's all over her face though. Hideous. Skin just coming right off. She's barely got a nose."

Kate's wide eyes also revealed her own lack of preparedness for this conversation, but she said nothing. Luckily, Harcourt didn't notice. He grunted in disgust at the thought of Lydia's missing nose then began looking Kate over quite carefully. "I hope it's not catching. You look alright though, at least your face does." He mused, "I'll see the rest of you once this dress is off..."

Cherry put out her hand and he dropped a pouch of money in it. She wanted to count it. She wanted very much to count it in front of him, knowing it would bother him that the likes of her believed he would try to cheat her. She resisted and reminded him, "I'll be back tomorrow. Mrs. Quigley has demanded that she be returned in one piece."

"If I find she's caught Mrs. Quigley's condition then I shall certainly not be paying you and I expect a full refund," he scolded. "Give Mrs. Quigley my regards."

"I assure you I'm quite alright, your lordship," Kate said adamantly and put on her best smile under the circumstances.

Cherry was shown out and the door closed quickly behind her. She tucked the money away and didn't spend it in case it turned out that Kate had a bad cunny or something and the man demanded a refund. Cherry was fairly certain though that he never paid Mrs. Quigley for Anne Pettifer, so he owed her money anyway. She wondered momentarily what happened to Anne, but she never liked her much and she went to St. James's to retrieve a load of salted meat and thought no more of her. She didn't anticipate that hocking a rich woman's supply of salted meat would be on her to-do list for the week, but it was better than putting her finger in a man's bum for a few pence.

The following morning, after breakfast, she went to retrieve Kate. She looked to be in fine condition and instead of going back to Isabella's right away, they went to Saracen's Head, which is where the Marquess believed Mrs. Quigley was still staying. Lady Isabella was intensely paranoid about them being followed. She and Kate made menial chit-chat along the way and Cherry counted the money then - both pouches.

"You sure you don't want half?" She asked Kate and extended one of the pouches to her. She shook it, jingling the coinage.

"I'm sure. It feels dirty."

"You're a harlot now. Everything is dirty," Cherry still held the pouch out. "You're dirty."

"No, I don't want money from that man, I mean. I'd take money from other men."

"Like the justice?" Cherry wiggled her eyebrows up and down and retracted her offer of the money.

"Perhaps," she blushed.

Cherry laughed a little then said, "I'm not sure what to do with all this really."

"Save it?" Kate suggested as they stepped into the tavern.

Cherry, startled by the suggestion, "No?"

"Like...put it in a jar for later?"

Before Cherry could argue against this, Emily approached and said to Kate, "Fuck me sideways, have you escaped Mrs. Quigley?" She looked at Cherry, "Or are you both Quigley girls now and she's working you out of St. James's? You're dressed like Quigley girls."

"Yes? I mean...no?" Kate wasn't sure of the correct answer.

"Get us two large flagons of beer, Emily," Cherry told her. She added, "The good stuff in big flagons."

Emily did so and then sat down with them. She lowered her voice to as close to a whisper as she could muster, "What's happened to Mrs. Quigley? Did Lady Fitz kill her? Please tell me she's in an unmarked grave somewhere, wig and all."

Cherry attempted to get her to lower her voice more and began slurping away at her beer while Kate answered, "God, no. She's safe and sound and comfortable at St. James's just like she wanted."

"She pulled it off?" Emily questioned, amazed. "Lady Fitz just rolled over?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Emily," Hal called across the room, "Sitting down and chatting with your friends doesn't make us any money."

Cherry flopped one of the pouches, fat with coin, onto the table and said, "Take it. I don't want it. Plus Lady Fitz said she owed you a bit for some of your errands. That should cover it."

Emily dramatically motioned toward it to Hal then picked it up and waved it around, making sure he could see. Hal looked pleased then left her alone. She'd proved her point. She asked, "How much is it?"

"Seventy-five pounds or some such," Kate told her.

"What?!" She shrieked, but then she lowered her voice again, "What's happening? What are you two up to?"

"Mystery and intrigue," Kate whispered, mostly into her beer.

"You couldn't keep a secret if your life depended on it, Emily Lacey," Cherry said to her and guzzled her beer down completely.

"I could too. You couldn't though," she argued back.

"How long are we staying here? I don't like how the other Pincher is looking at me," Kate finished her beer as well and indicated subtly to Isaac.

"I think his head injury fucked one of his eyes," Emily laughed at his expense. "He's looking at you funny because he can't see you well...probably thinks you look like Charlotte."

"I hope his poor vision has not heightened his other senses," Cherry commented. "Like his hearing."

"Stop it, Cherry," Kate chided. "We shouldn't make fun of him..." Her voice tapered off and she added with discomfort, "Even though he won't stop staring at me."

~~~

"He was not entirely unpleasant," Kate confessed after telling Isabella and Charlotte of her evening with the Marquess. The woman wanted every detail and so Kate proceeded to go into every detail. When she reached any vulgar parts, Isabella waved her hand and she moved along. She was afraid that the anticlimactic evening would somehow be disappointing to the woman. It had been somewhat disappointing to her. She had secretly wanted to witness something nefarious.

"I'd expect nothing less. He knows how to be a gentleman when the need arises," Isabella said, not disappointed at all. 

Charlotte had barely listened. She couldn't get comfortable. Her leg had been nagging her all day and prevented her from being able to read the hefty tome dropped off for her by Justice Knox.

"When I attend this dinner with him is there anything I should do in particular?" Kate asked.

Isabella said, "Make note of who is in attendance and what they talk about." She added, "You don't have to do if you don't want to."

"No, I do. I'll get something useful."

"You don't have to get anything this time or the next even. We are playing a very long, tedious game of chess with him and I'd like for him to not even realize we're playing just yet," Isabella reassured her.

Charlotte asked, "Did you happen to see any sign of a girl named Anne Pettifer?"

Kate looked confused, "No. Who is she?"

"She was one of Mrs. Quigley's girls. She went away with him and now seems to have disappeared."

She gasped, "Oh."

"She pestered Charlotte a bit when they were both under Quigley," Isabella told her, "But neither of us wished an ill-fate on her."

"I did a little," said Charlotte. "Not being murdered by him, per se."

"Do you truly think he killed her?" Kate asked nervously.

Isabella then shifted the subject a bit not wanting to think about this nice girl being murdered by her brother once he tired of her. "At a later time, see if you can find out who Harcourt is writing to, who's writing to him, that sort of thing."

"What am I looking for?" Kate asked.

"I don't know yet, but add it to your list of things to keep an eye out for."

Kate then asked shyly, "Is Mrs. Quigley alright?"

"She's stopped shouting at all hours, ranting about how this is Bedlam: Part Two and I took her some gossip rags." 

"I think she likes having something to do, some purpose," Kate told her.

"That's a bit how I feel," Charlotte grumbled.

Isabella looked at her and said, "You're in a foul mood."

"I think the bloody doctor made my leg worse by trying to fix it."

"Have some more medicine," Isabella handed her the laudanum and then poured her a glass of brandy. 

"I've heard talk of people that become obsessed with that stuff," Kate said.

"It's true," Isabella said passing Charlotte the Brandy. "She's barely used it."

"I swear to you two if my Ma taught me anything it was to go with strong alcohol, give anything else a wide berth," Charlotte raised the glass of brandy in a slight toast to Margaret then she downed the poison. "It truly tastes worse than an asshole nor do I care for brandy."

"Do you want something else, love?" Isabella asked immediately and started to get up.

"Christ's sake, sit," Charlotte grabbed one of the folds of her dress quickly. "Brandy is fine. It's just not my favorite. Stop spoiling us. You truly do not need to accommodate our every whim, especially mine. You need to keep me in my place or else I'll become intolerable."

Isabella sat back down, displeased but said nothing more about the drink. Kate observed them, quietly interested. She wanted to ask them so many questions but thought it impolite to do so.

~~~

Isabella, being insanely patient, did not mind that her plans played out very slowly. Being rash could cause the entire house of cards to come crashing down and she couldn't afford that - no one could afford that. She had put Kate as well as Cherry in immediate danger. She herself was in danger, along with everyone in Mrs. Harvey's house. Mr. Croft's career would be ruined and Justice Knox would go down with them. Margaret would be hung legitimately, she'd be locked in Bedlam, and who knows what would happen to Charlotte and Sophia - wherever the damned girl was.

Several times since the kidnapping, she had to give Margaret a stern talking to about taunting Mrs. Quigley from the hallway outside of her door before she finally ceased. She needed Lydia out of the game until the other pieces were in place and then she needed her on her side during the final act.

"Time will make her submit, not berating her, Margaret," Isabella would say then she apologize to Mrs. Quigley. She despised the woman but found that it wasn't all that hard to pretend.

The woman was being well taken care of. She simply was not allowed beyond the confines of the room, which was one of the larger of the guest rooms even. Isabella frequently reminded her that Charlotte was suffering the same fate, but also couldn't get out of the bed and was in pain, but Charlotte wasn't complaining nearly as much. Taking her the gossip rags really seemed to help. She accepted them as a true gesture of goodwill. Kate insisted that Mrs. Quigley was unwell, but Isabella had yet to witness one of her spells. She feared she may be unintentionally nursing her back to health after Bedlam made her weak and she cursed herself for being such a fine hostess.

Lydia quickly assumed that Cherry was who turned on her. She couldn't even imagine that Kate had been feeding information to Emily and that Emily truly was Lady Fitz's spy. She remained stewing in rage for the first few days. Rage because she'd been betrayed and rage, because she had been kidnapped by a woman she thought for years, was rather soft. The meals being brought to her helped her rage to subside. It was better food than she'd had in months. She could have baths drawn for her and ask for tea or biscuits whenever she pleased. But she quickly grew very bored. The rage all turned to boredom. She accepted that Kate would be turned against her, that no one missed her enough to look for her, and that she had made a huge mistake.

She asked for Kate several times, but the girl apparently declined to visit her. She asked if she could come out to see Charlotte, but Charlotte had no interest in seeing her. The only person with interest in her was Margaret, but Isabella had driven her away. Nancy Birch didn't even come by to taunt her and she knew Nancy was also staying in the house.

She wanted to start plotting, but she was so bored she couldn't even come up with a good plot. Even if she got out of the room, she couldn't get out of the house. If she got out of the house she was also fairly certain she'd never get back in. No one would believe she'd been kidnapped by Lady Fitz. No one would care. This made her very depressed, and she thought she had finally been defeated. She should surrender and be content in her captivity. Isabella had even begun brining her gossip rags and a hilarious issue of Harris' List. She found it infinitely amusing that Harris still wrote of Charlotte as if she were on the market.

One day Lydia heard the door to her room unlock, she wasn't sure how many days in this was because she had not bothered to even keep track. Isabella slipped in, "Mrs. Quigley, I have some exciting news for you." She barely looked up from where she lay on the bed dramatically sprawled out. "I've found Charles."

She scoffed, "How is Kate?"

"She's wonderful, but I've tracked down your son. He proved much easier to find than my daughter."

"I never thought you one to be so cruel," Lydia whispered. "It turns out that you're just as much of a beast as the rest of us."

"You've been brought food and clothes. Your bedpan has been changed. You get hot baths. This is one of the finest rooms. Why must I keep reminding you of this?"

"You've kept my daughter from me."

"I haven't and she is no more your daughter than Charlotte was. She hasn't asked to see you, Mrs. Quigley." She said again, "But I know where your son is."

"He lost my house. He is dead to me." She sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, "May I see Charlotte?"

"No. She has no desire to see you either." If Lydia thought her cruel, she decided she would say something cruel, "You've not made a friend in your entire life, have you?"

She glared at her, "What are you up to, Lady Fitz?"

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked pleasantly and clasped her hands in front of her.

"What do you gain from keeping me your hostage?"

"You're not roaming around causing havoc if you're safely locked away here."

Lydia continued to glare, "You can't keep me here forever."

"Would you like to place a wager on this? You know I love gambling and I will certainly outlive you."

"I also know you're not good at gambling," she snapped.

"Maybe I learned a thing or two while you were in actual Bedlam."

"You've certainly gotten snippier, but I'd expect that with you spending so much time with Charlotte Wells. She has atrocious manners."

Isabella looked at her and pointed out, "You insult her and yet you want to see her?"

"She has atrocious manners, but..." She thought then of Charlotte lying crumpled on the floor in the back foyer of this very house. Charlotte had played her for a fool, weaseled her way into her heart, and then had been another in a long line of people to betray her trust. Did she deserve it? Most likely. She still cared for Charlotte though. Charlotte was profoundly likable even with her atrocious manners. She realized it when she saw her lying in a heap with her broken legs. She realized it when she was afraid the girl would die.

She cared for Kate too. She worried that Kate was now involved in something unseemly. She wanted to do things differently with Kate, she truly did. She was. At least Kate had a place to stay even though Lady Fitz was apparently a villain.

"Mrs. Quigley?"

When the woman looked up, Isabella as standing right in front of her with her brow firmly knitted. She had moved so quickly like a phantom in a purple dress.

"What happened just now?" She asked, her voice surprisingly kind. "Where did you go?"

"I went nowhere. I don't know what you're talking about." She stood abruptly and stormed across the room. She put her hands on the back of the chair at the dressing table and kept her back to her captor. Kate looked at her with that same concerned and curious expression several times.

"Mrs. Quigley," Isabella said again. "Kate worries about you." She turned around slowly, said nothing, but waited for more. "She said you have...spells. You forget what you were talking about, talk to yourself, drift off. She doesn't want to see you, she's busy, but she worries." She said nothing in response still. Isabella sighed and started out, but then said, "When you are ready to listen to reason and not be such a dastardly twat, we have a common enemy that we can destroy if you'll help."

"You certainly learned profanity while I was in Bedlam," Lydia commented spitefully as Isabella closed the door and locked it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I'm totally down with everything that happened in 3x08. I had a few freakishly similar things planned but with more witty banter in between. I've written the end of this, I just have to flesh out a few connecting pieces to get there and proofread everything, which takes me a bit (because I have to add all of my Ts in and all). Stay with me, my dudes. I'm also participating in the 3 Day Novel Contest (look it up, it's insane and I could die, please send thoughts and prayers) this weekend, so I may not finish this up until after that. I'm going to try though. Y'all gonna get multiple chapters a day. So many chapters. Hold onto your knickers.

"Leave them alone," Emily said firmly. She was visibly angry and upset, her face red and her fists clenched. "Please, just let them be. You cannot win at this. I've told you so many times, you idiots."

Hal looked at her, angry himself, and said, "After what they've done to us-"

"You two started it." She pointed at Isaac, "He started it mostly. Both of you get fixated on nonsense and you need to let it go."

Isaac sneered as best he could with his bandaged head. His left eye had truly been quite messed up by his run-in with the wine bottle. The white of that eye was red still, filled with blood and a mighty purple bruise graced his eye socket. "Look at what they did to me."

"You did it to yourself thinking Charlotte had feelings for you," she reminded him. She looked back at Hal, "And if you feel anything for me, please listen. Don't do this. Leave them alone."

"She's going to run to Lady Quimfingers," said Isaac. "She's been working for her."

"Stay here and tend bar, Emily. We'll only truly go to the law about Margaret Wells if they don't accept our offer," Hal said, trying to calm himself as well as her. He didn't reveal to his brother that he was aware of the arrangement between Emily and Lady Fitz.

"Quigley is fucking mad. You don't even know if it's true," she attempted to backpedal, but she suspected the cover had long been blown.

"I know it's true because of how you're acting," Isaac stated and looked at Hal for confirmation.

"We just need a bit more money. We're not even going to ask for a great deal. She has plenty," Hal said to her and took her hand. "Then we'll buy another tavern, perhaps in Soho, the other side of Golden Square. Once we have more taverns then we won't need to be concerned with these other brothels."

"Why don't we just invest in another tavern with what we have and leave everyone alone?" She pleaded. "Leave Lady Fitz alone. Leave Charlotte alone. Leave them all alone before they destroy you."

"Whose side are you on, Emily?" Isaac asked her.

"Hal's," she said spitefully. "I don't want him to get himself killed because of your fucking vendetta. You get stupid ideas into your head and then you put them into his."

"We have leverage now," Hal reminded her. "We can use Margaret Wells. This will be quick and painless just as it was for Quigley."

"Have you seen Quigley since? Heard of her? Do you not recall anything Lady Fitz said to you?" He shrugged so she turned again to Isaac, although she knew the futility of reasoning with him, "A cripple nearly killed you with a bottle, you prick."

Hal looked at Emily and squeezed her hand but then he released it and looked at Isaac. He nodded and they both go to their feet. "Let's go. Emily, please just tend the bar."

"We should lock her up somewhere," Isaac said to Hal still in her earshot.

"Fuck," she muttered and hung her head. "You're both idiots and if you do this I'll leave you, Hal. I want no part of it." The Pinchers ignored her and went upstairs to get their coats. Emily didn't think she could possibly beat them to St. James's unless she left in that very moment. Even if she made it there, what good would it do? She'd be seconds ahead. "Fuck," she said again and got up. It was worth a shot. She moved quickly for the door, but not so quick as to draw attention from any of the tavern patrons or so she thought.

When she reached for the door a blonde girl grabbed her wrist and before she could yell that she had places to be, the girl spoke quietly, "I couldn't help but overhear you mention Lady Fitz..."

"Yes, I..." This caught Emily off guard. "Why?"

"Can you deliver a message to her for me?" The girl was somewhat unkempt. Her dress had been nice once, but was nice no more. Perhaps her hair had been nice as well, but it looked as if she'd been on the street for a while. Emily could clean her up, make a nice tavern whore out of her, but she'd have to propose this to her at a later time.

"What?" Emily asked and pulled away from her, opening the door. "Make it quick."

"Tell her I'm here," she said, shaking.

"Who-"

"Sophia. Just tell her. She hasn't responded to my letters and I...I don't know what to do. Please, tell her."

"Alright, yes." Emily confusedly made her way outside and tried to find a carriage to take her to St. James's. Was that Isabella's missing daughter? Did it matter right now? Did it matter more than the Pinchers' stupid blackmail plot? Before Emily could decide the importance of each of the matters at hand, she spotted Cherry drunkenly wandering from an alley. She was obviously not doing well with her sudden influx of money and she was not staying at Greek Street often. She grabbed Cherry by her shoulders and knelt down so their faces were on the same level. "The Pinchers know about Mrs. Wells, and I think Isabella's daughter might be in Saracen's Head right now."

Cherry blinked quickly several times, trying to make out who was speaking to her, and then asked, "What are you asking me to do? You're asking me to do something, Emily Lacey."

"Go find Sophia at Saracen's. Take her somewhere safe. Take her to Greek Street. I'm going to St. James's to try to warn Lady Isabella," Emily shook her with each of her words.

Cherry nodded, "Done and done. Godspeed, Emily Lacey."

"Fucking hell," she mumbled and shoved Cherry toward the tavern then continued up the street in search of a carriage.

Cherry stumbled toward the door of Saracen's as the Pinchers came out, nearly bowling her over. Had she been closer, she would have been hit with the door. They looked around, she presumed for Emily, upon realizing she wasn't inside. She said nothing, but she did look back up the street. She didn't see her, but she couldn't see terribly well. She hoped she'd found a carriage or that she could run very fast. Now the Pinchers needed to find themselves a carriage. The sun was going down and carriages were hard to come by at this hour. They didn't even notice her and were chattering wildly with one another. She slipped right in before the door even swung shut after their exit.

She went first to the bar and got a flagon of ale, seeming to forget her task. After getting the drink and tossing her coin up onto the counter, she walked around sipping on it leisurely and looking at everyone in Saracen's. She could still read postures fairly well, she just couldn't quite make out faces in her inebriated state. She sought out someone who looked out of place and then spotted a dingy dress in a subdued pink. She weaved between men and chairs and made her way to the young girl. She didn't look entirely out-of-place but something was off about her. Unfortunately, she ran into her and sloshed some beer onto her dress, miscalculating how close she actually was.

The girl looked down and Cherry looked up, "Sophia?"

"Yes?"

"I have been summoned here to take you to a safe place. Allow me to finish my beer and then we will go to Greek Street," Cherry told her and looked around, trying to ascertain if anyone was listening.

"To the brothel?" Sophia whispered. "But I went there. It was all burned. No one was there anymore."

"Old news. Repaired now," she hiccuped and began taking mighty swallows of her drink. 

"I didn't know...I've been writing to my mum...but I...I was hiding, and-"

Cherry shushed her, "Talk later. Not here. You've no friends here aside from me." She sat the empty flagon on the table, wiped foam from her face, grabbed Sophia's hand and said, "Let's go. Sally forth, Little Fitz."

When they reached Greek Street, Cherry shoved the door open. Nancy sat just inside. She was in a chair that she had rocked back onto its two rear legs and she leaned against the wall with her rods across her knees. She said jovially, "You're barging in here like a drunken lord, Cherry. Do you plan to work tonight or no?"

She cleared her throat and kept walking toward the kitchen, "I've found Lady Fitz's missing bastard daughter. Get me some gin as my reward."

"Sophia?" Nancy leaned forward and looked at the girl following Cherry. "Why have you not gone back to St. James's? Fuck, where've you been? Are you alright?"

"Everything's gone wrong," she said to her near tears.

"Come here," Nancy stood and then kicked the door closed. She urged her toward the kitchen, "Tell me what's happened and we'll go to your Ma's."

"Don't bother," Cherry said and took a gulp of gin. "Emily Lacey is on her way there. Little Fitz," Cherry pointed to her and hiccupped. "Was in Saracen's. I brought her here." She then winced, "The Pinchers know about Mrs. Wells."

"Oh, hell," Nancy muttered. She snatched the bottle from Cherry and took a sip. "She's going to kill them. If she kills them, it will ruin everything."

"What?" Cherry questioned. "Emily had a head start."

"Fuck, I hate depending on Emily Lacey." Nancy pulled a chair out from the table for Sophia then one out for herself and positioned it so she could still see the door, "Will's there tonight though."

~~~

Emily jumped from the carriage before it had fully come to a stop and threw a handful of extra coin to the driver that she'd paid to push his horses as hard as was acceptable down the streets. She plowed through the gate and then pounded the door knocker only twice before letting herself in before the doorman could. She shoved by the man and said, "Sorry. I need to see Lady Fitz right now."

"Miss Lacey!" The doorman called after her, "You must wait in the parlor!"

"Not today!" She yelled back and continued through the house shouting, "Isabella!"

"Emily, what is it?" Isabella came out of the banquet hall, "What could possibly warrant this?"

"The Pinchers are on their way. They know about Mrs. Wells. They plan to extort you." She took a deep breath, "And I've found Sophia."

"Where is Sophia?" She asked her, ignoring the rest of what she said.

"She was at Saracen's, but I ran into Cherry. I told Cherry to take her to Greek Street, so I hope she's at Greek Street now."

Mr. North had already risen from his dinner to investigate the commotion. He stood behind Isabella and she turned to him, grasping his wrist lightly, "Deal with the Pinchers. I'll go to Greek Street. Thank God, Nancy is there."

"Don't kill the Pinchers," Emily said to anyone listening, but no one really was.

"Stay here. Have dinner," Isabella spoke quickly and then started for the door. "Prepare a carriage!" She yelled at one of her attendants that then scurried from view.

"How do you suggest I deal with them?" Mr. North asked, following her, leaving Emily standing in the hall.

"I don't care. Pay them whatever they want. There's money in the bureau in my bedroom. Go get it. Invite them in and dose them with laudanum then tie them up. I honestly do not care," she said as she stepped outside.

Mr. North stopped and looked toward the stairs then quickly sprinted up and toward her room taking two steps at a time with ease.

"My favorite filthy pimps," Isabella announced as she exited her house and saw the Pinchers arriving in their carriage. "Bad news, I have no time for your extortion tonight." She helped herself into her own carriage as it pulled up. "You're welcome to dinner though," she called to them. "We can discuss your foolhardy plan on another day." She closed the door and ushered the driver on to Greek Street.

"What the hell?" Hal asked, confusedly.

"Where's Emily Lacey?" Isaac asked the doorman who didn't respond. He looked toward Hal, "I was right about her. You never listen."

"Shut up, Isaac," he responded and they continued toward the door where the doorman didn't let them pass until Mr. North met them.

"How much do you damned hooligans want to leave us alone?" He asked them, a stack of banknotes in his hand.

"Lady Fitz said to invite them in for dinner, Will," Margaret said in an overly pleasant sing-song voice from the foyer. "Come in, boys. We can talk business over dinner."

"Oh, Mrs. Young. You didn't leave with Mr. Young," Hal said and attempted to stare her down.

She didn't flinch and then said, "The Wellses are old friends and I stayed to care for Charlotte."

"Or you're her mother," Isaac said as he followed his brother over the threshold.

Mr. North slammed the door just after he finished speaking, which made him jump and made Mr. North laugh.

Mrs. Wells turned to them, "Let's discuss what exactly it is you want over dinner. I apologize for Lady Fitz needing to step out so suddenly."

~~~

Cherry fell asleep in the chair by the fire and didn't even stir when Lady Isabella shoved open the door of the Greek Street brothel.

"It looks like no one knocks anymore," Nancy said to her, but then moved aside so she could see her daughter.

Isabella paled and Sophia shouted, "Mother!"

Nancy sat back down and said to herself, "Emily Lacey is apparently quite good at delivering messages these days."

"Where have you been Sophia?" Isabella asked as she hugged the girl, "I have written you a hundred letters and tried to find you for weeks. I've had people looking for you all over London, and beyond London now."

"The last letter I received was from the night of the prizefight at your house. You said Charlotte had been hurt, that my uncle was back and to hide. I hid and then..." She began to cry. "He left me when I ran out of money."

"Men are garbage," Nancy tossed in her opinion. "Absolute rubbish."

"Why didn't you come home, Sophia?" Isabella asked her and grabbed her face. "You silly girl, you could have just come home."

"I came here and there was no one, it had been burned, so then we just stayed in taverns and inns under fake names and I kept writing to you, but..."

"I never got anything," she shook her head, dejectedly. "Harcourt has been intercepting my letters just as I thought."

"How did he not find her first then?" Nancy asked.

"I never told my location...I...I was being so careful and th-th-then I stopped because I realized...something was wrong," she sobbed. "I have been roaming London, trying to find someone to trust."

Isabella still clung to her face and looked at her in distress, "My foolish child, you could've gone to Golden Square, to a justice, to-"

"Stop," Nancy cut her off. "The girl's hungry and tired. Look at her. She looks like a drowned rat. Reprimand her later. I'll get some food."

She nodded and then hugged her, "I've been worried out of my mind, Sophia."

"I was beginning to think you did not care...that you were too busy with Charlotte, and I-"

"Come, both of you sit down," Nancy encouraged and began to cut into a stiff loaf of bread. She sat a hunk of hard cheese down next to it, "Eat something, Sophia. Then tell your Ma of your adventures. Isabella, eat some cheese, shut your mouth, and listen for a moment."

Sophia snatched up the bread and some cheese. "I'm so sorry, Mother."

"You didn't even have to run away to be married to the footman," she cried. "I would've let you be married to the footman. I just would've made sure he wasn't a piece of shit first."

"I thought you wouldn't approve," Sophia protested and chewed on the bread.

"Whyever would you think that?"

"You wouldn't tell me who my father is."

Nancy dropped the bread knife and said, "Oops."

They both looked toward Nancy and Isabella then looked back at Sophia, "Because your father is an awful person."

"Then why did you love him?"

"What?" Isabella looked at her confused. "I never did. I..." She paused, "Did you think I was ashamed of my love? There was never love to be ashamed of."

"Your Ma's in love with Charlotte Wells," Nancy interjected again.

"Well, I know that now," Sophia mumbled. "I just thought..."

Isabella rubbed her eyes, "I'd like to shout at you for not asking me, but you did ask me. I didn't...your father..." She stammered, "I was young and not..."

"You were stupid?"

Nancy placed a hand on Isabella's shoulder and the woman said bluntly because Sophia clearly did not understand, "Sweet child, your father forced himself on me. I never loved him. I never wanted him. There was not even any seduction. There was not a shard of romance to it." Sophia's jaw dropped and she swallowed the bit of bread she was chewing the rest fell from her hand. Isabella sighed, "And now you know why I didn't want to tell you."

They were interrupted then by Kitty teetering out of Fanny's room and squealing, "Is-bel!"

"Kitty, my little love," Isabella extended her arms and scooped up the girl as she ran to her. "Who is supposed to be watching you, sweetpea? Is it Nancy?"

"Nancy is the bully not the babysitter," Nancy said making her way back to the door.

Fanny walked out bleary-eyed from what was once Margaret and Will's room. Seeing Isabella holding her daughter, she exclaimed, "Oh, Lady Fitz! I didn't know you were here."

"And I didn't mean to wake you," she said apologetically.

"Sophia! Oh, God!" Fanny then acknowledged the other visitor. "My ladies, I'm so sorry the house is unfit...in no condition-"

"It's fine, Fanny. You should've told me the Greek Street baker deserves to be imprisoned though," she nodded toward the hard bread.

Sophia laughed slightly and wiped her tears, "It's not so bad, Fanny."

"Cherry brought us a crate of your smoked fish the other day."

"I didn't think fish would be appropriate for the discussion taking place," Nancy shrugged.

"This is your house now, Fanny?" Sophia asked and began to cry again suddenly.

"It upsets me too, dear," Sophia took a seat next to her and poured her a drink.

"I should've come back here. I didn't know what was happening," Sophia confessed. "Everywhere I went, I wasn't sure who was a friend...if anyone. I overheard a girl talking about you in a tavern where I was hoping to find a place to sleep..."

"Emily," Isabella nodded. "Emily is a friend."

Fanny looked and her and popped a bit of cheese in her mouth, "She is?"

"I think Emily is a friend," she said. "At the very least she hasn't wronged me yet but the true test of her loyalty has not yet come."

Fanny looked at her inquisitively as she spoke gravely and bounced Kitty on her knee. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't involve you, Fanny. Be grateful."

A girl called down from upstairs, "Nance, my cull's passed out! Can you help me move him to the street?!"

"On the way!" They heard Nancy's response. 

"Cherry's here, you know," Isabella said and looked toward Cherry snoozing behind Fanny.

Fanny rolled her eyes, "I can't get control of her. She's only here when she's drunk."

"I may be the cause of it. Don't cut her loose," Isabella said. "I've given her a dangerous task and a lot of money."

"I won't. Only because you've requested it, and she's also charming when she's not passed out."

Isabella put Kitty back on the floor and patted her bottom, "Go to your mother." Kitty scooted around the table and she stood and said, "We should be on our way now."

Sophia stood quietly. She touched Fanny's shoulder and followed her mother out to her waiting carriage driver. After they were closed in the cab, she said, "I am sorry."

"It's alright. It's done. I'm just glad you're back."

"For everything, Mother."

Isabella said again, trying to be more assured, "It's alright."

Sophia did not stop, "I thought I was the child of some servant. I thought you were ashamed."

"I am not ashamed of you. I am thankful that something beautiful came from something horrid. Now, please, I don't wish to wax on it forever."

"Mother, I have seen horrible things the last several weeks. I didn't know how awful people could be-"

"They can always be more awful," she said softly. "I tried to protect you from it. I wanted only to protect you from the ugliness of the world that I saw far too early." Sophia went silent again and Isabella went on, "I was happy for you. I thought you were in love, but to know he's left you now..."

"I was in love...I thought..." Sophia said very quietly, but then she suddenly bit at her, "Would your whore still fancy you if you ran out of money?"

Isabella turned to her slowly and the shock read on her face, "Yes, Sophia. She would."

"How certain are you?"

"Completely." Isabella did not understand this line of questioning.

She sighed and looked away, "So was I."


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive! Here's a huge chapter. :)

"Have a bath drawn, Sophia," Isabella said. Sophia was visibly relieved to be in the comfortable, familiar location. Her mother added, "I have some matters to attend to then I'll be in Charlotte's room."

Isabella was not, in fact, in Charlotte's room after Sophia finished bathing although she took a very long, quite hot, and a much-needed bath. Charlotte was alone and reading by candlelight when she entered. She looked up from her book, "Sophia, I'm glad you're alright."

Sophia looked at her warily. "Where's my mother?"

"Probably dealing with the two unconscious men that my mother drugged at dinner. She stopped in to check on me then stepped out again. I told her to return them to their home and let them attempt their ploy again tomorrow," said Charlotte, rather pleasantly. "Stoke the fire then come and sit." Charlotte marked the page in her book then placed it on the table. "I've not had much company today."

Sophia, though unaccustomed to taking care of her own fire did so and then hung the poker back up. Then she sat down awkwardly and asked, "How are your legs?"

"Fucked," Charlotte answered and the girl blushed. "Tell me about your man troubles. I'm better at listening to man troubles than your Ma is."

"You care?" Sophia had never really had a conversation with Charlotte before. When she was hiding at Greek Street previously Charlotte was always in and out and when Charlotte came to St. James's her mother tended to whisk her away somewhere to do whatever it was they did.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

"But you're a harlot," she said with some protest.

"And you're the bastard daughter of Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam. Are we finished talking about irrelevant matters now?" Charlotte poured herself a drink. She had a bottle of rum at her disposal. She poured a second glass and pushed it as far toward Sophia as she could without causing herself any discomfort greater than the constant throbbing she'd been experiencing for days.

"What do you know of love?"

Charlotte sat up straighter and tried to minimize her wince as much as possible to not reveal any weakness because clearly this girl was going to assess her. She was being protective of her mother so it was alright. "Dear Sophia," she took a sip of her rum and then said, "I know more about love than you could imagine. More men have been in love with me than I can recall."

"Answer me truly, would you love my mother if she had no money?" Sophia looked at the drink Charlotte poured for her but didn't take it.

"I'd prefer it," Charlotte answered. "It would stop people from asking me that same God-forsaken question over and over." Her tone became increasingly angry as she spoke and she ended it with, "That would be fucking nice."

Sophia did not cower, but she apologized, "Sorry."

"Do you have any idea what it's like to have the sincerity of your feelings constantly doubted?" Charlotte asked her. "It's rather tiresome."

"I didn't think anyone would believe I loved the footman..." Sophia confessed.

"I almost ran away to America with an Irishman."

"But you didn't," she observed.

"I didn't love him. You loved your idiot footman enough to run away."

She sighed and finally picked up the drink, "I was stupid."

Charlotte shrugged, "Plenty of people think your Ma is stupid as well. You appear to be one of them."

"No, it's..." She stopped talking, her voice trailing off.

"Your mother loves you. She just doesn't know how to do it properly," Charlotte said less harshly. "Like I don't quite know how to love her properly. I'm beginning to believe no one actually knows how to do anything quite properly really. We're all just flying by the seat of our breeches."

"If she had just told me the truth from the start..."

"She didn't think she could. I understand that better than you know. You won't understand until you have a horrible secret yourself...one you're afraid will hurt someone you care for very much." Charlotte sighed, "The truth is harder than it seems." Sophia frowned and she went on, "After the fact, it all seems so easy. But sometimes, in the moment, the truth can seem like a nightmare that will destroy everything. The lie...the secret...whatever it is, it never seems as bad as causing someone else pain." Charlotte looked at Sophia and laughed, "You do not give a rat's ass about anything I'm saying, do you?"

"No, I do," she said. "I just..." Once again her voice trailed off and she couldn't seem to finish her thought.

"Did your Ma tell you who your father is?" She shook her head and Charlotte said, "I'd tell you, but she'd murder me."

"Does everyone know except me?"

"Not everyone, no." She frowned and Charlotte went on, "Fuck's sake. Your fancy school quashed all of your humor, didn't it? I hear they rap your knuckles with switches when you don't spell things correctly."

Sophia smiled a little and didn't answer, but instead said, "You're reading _The Iliad_?"

"Yes. Is this surprising?"

"I just didn't know-"

Charlotte cut her off with another laugh, "You didn't know that a harlot could read? My Ma taught me. I also know some math, believe it or not. I'm a proper Renaissance woman except I never learned to play a musical instrument - that was more my sister's expertise. Did you think your Ma had fallen in love with an illiterate?"

"You are not what I expected though I don't know what exactly it was I expected," she said, seeming a bit more relaxed.

"So tell me about this footman of yours," Charlotte said to her, kindly again, and raised her glass to her.

Charlotte kept the glass raised and waited for Sophia's response. She eventually clinked the edge of her glass to hers, they sipped and she began, "We were in love and everything was well and good until my money ran out. He didn't realize I had no money if I ran away from my mother. I thought we were going to run away and he was going to get a job, but...he didn't get a job. Then I couldn't get in touch with her and he kept saying she'd abandoned me..."

"What a prick," Charlotte said. "There's a million like him, but there's good ones out there too." She paused and added, "There's also worse ones."

"He said he loved me."

"Men are very fast to say that when they want to stick their pole in something warm."

"This is really not helping," Sophia said and drank her rum heartily. "You're making me feel like a fool."

"I lost my virginity to a stranger and then I spent some time with a lord and his wife, and then there were countless culls, another lord...some more lords, who all paid for it," Charlotte clicked her tongue and looked into her drink. "Then there was the poor Irishman, who didn't pay for it, who wanted to take me to America, but I had no love to give him, so I stayed here. Then I paid a few men and there were some more random men..."

"You regret it?"

"No, because it all led to this. I'm not particularly glad my legs are broken, but through the strangest series of events, I met this enchanting woman who was so unhappy and had so many secrets." Charlotte though slipping into some sadness smiled, "I told Mrs. Quigley that I thought people in big houses had no worries, except Lady Isabella. You were her worry. Every single day and you have been since you've run off too."

With this Sophia hung her head, "I didn't realize she cared."

"Of course she cared. She keeps it to herself because she never wants to burden anyone with her problems. She tries to carry them all herself until she has no strength left, which I think is when I met her." Charlotte refilled her drink, downed half of it and said, "She has searched high and low for you every day since she lost track of you." She yanked the blanket off covering her legs said, "Look at me. I'm fucking ruined. My life is over. She denies it every single day. Soon she'll realize I'm a burden, and I'd appreciate it if you could manage to not be a burden to her because if she ever has to choose which burden to bear she will surely leave me behind before she leaves you."

Sophia gasped and Charlotte covered her legs back up. They weren't nearly as bad as the girl made them out to be. She could barely look at them.

"I didn't mean to startle you or be so...harsh," Charlotte said apologetically although part of her did mean to very much so. "You want to protect your mother and I want to protect her as well. We shouldn't be protecting her from each other when there are wolves at her door in the form of the Pinchers and her brother."

Sophia nodded. She quietly drank her rum for a time and Charlotte drank hers as well, regretting her little outburst. Perhaps she had a bit too much rum. Everyone had left her unattended with just rum and her book for most of the day. She felt herself about to cry and didn't know if it was the pain, the rum or something else.

"Who is my father?" Sophia then asked her.

Charlotte didn't look at her, "I won't tell you. You'd be better off believing him to be dead. The truth is not what you want."

"Stop badgering poor Charlotte. I will tell you," Isabella announced and entered the room. They both looked up at her. "It's your uncle, Sophia." She repeated, "If you truly must know, my very own brother, your uncle is your father."

Sophia paled, sat down her glass and left the room, storming past Isabella.

Isabella exhaled loudly, "I perhaps should not have told her."

"It's done now. You can't un-ring a bell." Isabella remained at the door, trying to compose herself, regretting her truth-telling. Charlotte kept talking and forced her tears back, "I may not have been terribly kind to her, but she wasn't particularly kind to me either. I think she's had a bad time. She may have experienced many of London's grandest disappointments in the span of a few weeks."

"And now I've just told her that her uncle is her father and she has gone somewhere to die," Isabella moved across the room and collapsed into the chair.

"She wanted to know. She's still at that age where everything that isn't the full truth is dirty. Give her a day or two."

Isabella sat in quiet thoughtfulness for some time and Charlotte remained silent. She'd talked too much already. She sloshed what remained of her rum around in the small glass and ran her finger along the rim. Isabella placed a hand on the side of Charlotte's neck, but Charlotte didn't look at her and looked only at her drink.

"Charlotte," she said softly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm just tired and my leg has been pestering me all day."

"Just one leg?" She asked, sounding slightly curious and a little happy, even.

"Yes. My left leg is quite alright...comparatively."

Isabella moved to the edge of the chair and then shifted the blanket from her legs. "It certainly doesn't look as bad as it did," she observed and carefully lifted the edge of her chemise to see the upper part of her right leg. She looked at it for a moment then covered it again before suddenly turning and kissing Charlotte. 

Charlotte gently pushed away after a moment and asked, "What did you do with the Pinchers?"

"Tied them up and put them in the pantry," she whispered.

"I hope you're joking," Charlotte said.

"I am," she confessed. "They've been dumped out back of Saracen's. Miss Lacey said she will deal with them. I'm tired. Today turned out to be very exhausting and I'm going to have so much to do tomorrow."

"Come to bed and worry about tomorrow on some other day," Charlotte encouraged.

"Yes, and I should check on my daughter. I don't want her to run off again," she sighed again and brushed Charlotte's hair from her forehead and kissed her once more. As she got up from the chair she said, "You will not ever be a burden, I promise."

~~~

The next day when Isabella attempted to creep from Charlotte's room before sunrise, Charlotte grabbed her wrist and said, "Whatever it is you're going off to do, it can wait, can't it?"

"It can't, but I'll make it up to you soon," she insisted and rose from the bed. Charlotte let go of her arm with a sigh and Isabella did truly feel bad. It became imperative to her that Harcourt not discover that Sophia was home again. She had to continue as if still looking for her. She also wanted to urge along Mrs. Wells' pardon because it would completely nullify the Pinchers' idiot blackmail plot. She could not slip up simply because her daughter had returned. There would be time for celebration later, and also Sophia was absolutely livid with her and had locked herself in her bedroom anyway.

Charlotte grew increasingly bored. Her visitors had tapered off and she was tired of the bed and looking at the same room day in and day out. She missed going outside. She missed the sun and even missed the rain and the mud in the streets. She felt helpless and useless. She'd given her statement to Justice Knox and now had no more of a role to play in any of Isabella's plotting, unless lying in bed looking pretty counted for anything. She suspected it did not. She was, at last, a kept woman. Not even by her own choosing, but because her legs forced her to be so.

Upstairs, Lydia stirred from her sleep as well. She rolled around in the bed and had no desire to get up. She had no reason to get up. She had nothing to do. She had not a single, solitary thing to do. It was like being in Bedlam, but she was being tended to quite nicely. There had been some commotion the previous night. She heard someone run up the stairs and down the hall then slam a door. She heard Isabella come up a while later and then go back down. The woman's routine was the same every night.

As she lay silently in the bed and pondered the door slamming - as it had been the most excitement she'd had in days - she realized it was most certainly Sophia. She had only ever known children, or adults that acted like children, to engage in such storming about and door slamming. Lady Isabella's daughter had returned home after gallivanting off with the footman. This was exciting, indeed.

Lydia found motivation in this and pulled herself from the bed to dress. What exactly she planned to say to Sophia if she could catch her, she wasn't certain. What exactly her plan was with any of this, she also wasn't certain. She would figure that out as the day progressed. The girl, clearly upset, would likely attempt to remain in her room all day as an act of rebellion or spite toward her mother. Lydia had had many daughters over the years and understood them better than most, certainly better than Lady Isabella. As she began her morning rituals, she played over scene after scene in her mind, trying to determine what happened. She came up with all kinds of scenarios from Isabella snatching her out of the arms of her beloved footman, to Sophia being upset about Charlotte's presence. None of her theories were particularly close to what actually happened and became more outlandish with everyone passing minute.

Across town at Saracen's Head, Emily did not wake up early. She had the bed to herself in the room she shared with Hal and she took advantage of it. Hal began to stir though. He found himself propped up against his brother and covered in morning dew as well as dirt. He was cold but didn't particularly care. He mostly felt groggy and disoriented. It took him several moments to realize where he was, but he wasn't certain at all how he got there. He wasn't really certain of anything, except his current location and that his brother was next to him.

"Isaac," he elbowed him. Isaac snored but didn't stir. He jarred him, "Isaac. They've drugged us, I think."

Isaac opened his eyes slowly. He also felt cold and a little wet. For the first time in a while, his head didn't hurt though. He felt alright although confused. He could most definitely continue sleeping, even if he were sitting outside on the ground. It was as good a place as any.

"Isaac," Hal said again and he blinked in response. "Get up," he said, "Let's go inside."

"Where are we?" He asked finally.

"Out back of the tavern," he told him. "I need a drink."

Isaac closed his eyes and leaned back against the steps again, disinterested in being awake, much less standing and going inside. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fine. You stay." Hal grumbled and started to get up. His legs felt a bit wobbly and then he too felt the urge to just sit back down and continue his slumber. He would at least go upstairs and get into bed though. His coat was caked in mud and his wig lay on the ground next to him. He bent over slowly and picked it up then walked very deliberately inside. He poured himself some ale and then trudged up the stairs.

He was surprised to find Emily in the bed. Everything from the previous night was a blur and he couldn't quite remember the role Emily played in it. He sat his ale on the bedside table then peeled off his filthy coat. He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots as quietly as he could but he couldn't quite feel his hands nor his feet. It felt good to be in a bed. She didn't wake. She slept like a rock. He suspected she wouldn't wake even if the building were burning. He finished his ale and lay down next to her. He fell asleep again immediately. He didn't care about opening up the tavern that day or about Isaac being asleep outside nor did he care about Lady Fitz or Mrs. Wells. They were poisoned, but it wasn't the end of the world. It was time to rest.

~~~

"I don't rouse this early, Lady Fitz," Justice Knox squinted at her in the morning light. He was not dressed and his abode was very modest. "But what can I do for you?"

She answered, apologetically, "We need to expedite the pardon of Margaret Wells."

"At this hour?" He leaned on his door frame and yawned.

"Today, preferably."

Rubbing his face he said, "The motion has been made, various people have signed. It's now just waiting to be gotten to and given the final seal of approval. These things take time."

"You cannot urge it to move a bit faster?"

"Me? I cannot. I'm young, new, and not very popular among my peers, to be honest." She said nothing, made no indication that she was going to leave and just looked at him. "Fine," he mumbled. "I will see what I can do if you'll allow me to return to bed until a less ungodly hour."

"Thank you, Justice Knox."

"You may as well call me Stuart now since you've seen me in my bedclothes," he grunted and closed the door.

It was a bit early, she realized. She found an open bakery and purchased several loaves of bread. She had them neatly wrapped and then went to Greek Street. She knocked lightly, not wanted to disturb the entire house. She heard Nancy shuffling around inside. She muttered some profanity and then opened the door, ready to chew out what she thought would be a very early cull.

"Isabella, why are you here?" She asked, her expression softening. She opened the door for her to come inside. "You should be at home, in bed, like a normal person."

"I've brought fresh bread," she told her and held out the loaves.

"I do hope there's more to your visit than bread." Nancy looked like she'd barely slept. She had only gone to sleep a few hours before as there were a number of late clients that demanded satisfaction before leaving. She stayed up to see them out. She took two of the loaves off of her hands and took them into the pantry.

"Of course. I need a favor." She placed the remaining loaves in the center of the table. Nancy yawned and sat by the fire where Cherry had been the night before. "I need my brother to continue to think that Sophia is missing. I need rumors to spread. Everything but the truth."

"And you want me to get this started?" She asked her.

Isabella nodded, "Yes. If you would."

"May I get some rest first?"

"Why does no one in this town get up at a decent hour?" She asked, rhetorically.

"How many people have you already woken up today before rousing me, eh? You're the one up too early."

"Only a few."

Nancy scoffed and crossed her arms, "And why are you not at home with Sophia?"

"She's rather upset with me."

"Ah," she said knowingly. "So now you're taking it out on unsuspecting sleeping people first thing in the morning, I see."

"I merely wanted to handle this business as early as possible," she argued.

"Ah," she said again. "Go home and make up with your child over breakfast now before I report you to the constable for disturbing the peace."

Isabella returned home after stopping by a few establishments that were open and asking after her daughter. She also stopped a few people on the street as she made her way as well. When she got home she found that no one else had risen with the exception of Mrs. Quigley asking for a clean basin of water a few moments before. Sophia, her supposedly still missing daughter, had not emerged from her room since the night before. 

She called for tea and paced the parlor, trying to figure out what to do about the Pinchers if they saw fit to come after her for Mrs. Wells again. This was throwing a kink into her plans. She couldn't kidnap and hold them, hostage, because their absence would likely be noticed. The two scoundrels were quite popular on their side of town. Eventually, someone would come looking for them and she did not believe her ties were strong enough to save her from such a thing. She'd called in several favors to get Margaret her pardon. She thought they had time to wait on it, but she no longer did with those dumb brothers coming to extort her. She could just pay them off as she'd been paying Mrs. Quigley for years, but she didn't particularly want to. If it boiled down to it, she would though, just long enough to keep them out of her way. The Marquess needed to be taken down before two back alley pimps.

~~~

Lydia sat near the door all day, listening carefully for sounds from down the hall. She continued contriving scenario after scenario about what happened to Sophia, where she'd been, what she'd done, who she'd done. She was surely not the naive creature she'd encountered before after being on the streets of London without her mother's money as her shield. When she heard the sound of a door open down the hall she immediately perked up. She listened for the approaching footsteps and she called out, "Sophia?"

The footsteps paused just outside of her door.

She said again, "Sophia. It's me, Lydia Quigley. We met once before. I took you to your uncle. Do you remember me?"

The footsteps approached the door, tested the knob and found it locked. Sophia then asked, "Why are you locked in a guest room?"

"Because your mother is holding me hostage, it seems," she answered.

"I beg your pardon?"

Mrs. Quigley repeated, "Your mother is keeping me locked in here. I am her prisoner."

"Why, though?"

"She thinks I've wronged her in some way," Lydia answered her being sure to speak very kindly, motherly even.

"You did, remember?" She answered coldly.

"No, no, no," she protested but was careful not to do so very vehemently. "I did not intend to do so. It was a misunderstanding." Sophia said nothing, clearly thinking about her words. She didn't know who or what to trust anymore. Mrs. Quigley went on, "Are you upset with her? Your mother? I heard a door slam last night."

There was a long pause before she answered, "I don't know."

"You don't know if you're upset?" She asked with sincere curiosity.

"Do you know who my father is?" Sophia asked her suddenly, also very curious. "Do you?"

Unsure if there was a right or wrong answer, Lydia took a moment. "No," she then said. "Your mother guards that secret well."

"She told me..."

"Oh?" Lydia hoped she would go on, give her something she could use to her advantage. Sophia did not go on, but she did not leave either, so Lydia said as casually as she could, "I always suspected it was someone low-class, a servant, a stableboy or some such."

"That was what I believed as well, but I was...wrong."

The gears in her head began turning at full-speed. Had the ever soft-spoken, polite and graceful Isabella Fitzwilliam had a child with some lord or another? A friend of her father, perhaps? Had she seduced some older man? No, of course not. Not Isabella.

"If you had known and still done what you did to me then I would hate you as well."

Unsure what she meant but treading carefully, she asked, "What do you mean, Sophia?"

"I mean my uncle," she said. Her voice very low, ashamed and afraid although no one listened except Lydia. Her voice cracked as she continued to speak, "Not only am I a bastard, I am a...a..." She couldn't say it.

"Oh, my..." Lydia said. She too had been terribly wrong. "No," she stood and put her hand on the door, wishing she could touch her, console her. Sophia, like Kate, was a lost little lamb and the Marquess of Blayne was a beast. She had known he was a beast, but this irked her. "I am truly sorry..." she said. She meant it for the girl and for her mother as well. "I didn't know...had I known...I never..." She never would have taken her to him. Would she still have done business with him? Yes, probably, but her dealings would have been much different. Would she still have blackmailed Isabella? Yes, probably. The next question in her mind slipped out accidentally, "Does he know?"

"I don't know," she said sadly and then she walked away before Lydia could speak to her more.

Lydia remained where she was, with her palm touching the wood. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the door feeling guilt and a frightening respect for Lady Isabella. She never believed they could have something so repulsive and similar in common, the utter betrayal of it, of family. The Marquess' insatiable appetite for virgins, how close he'd kept her for all of those years after their father died, how she had been trapped with him because he'd made her out to be incompetent, Isabella's distance with suitors, everything suddenly made sense and fell into place about the both of them. She also knew at that moment who their common enemy was. Lady Isabella sought vengeance against her brother at last, and Lydia fully intended to help her, not because he let her be cast into Bedlam, but because he needed to be stopped.


	24. Chapter 24

Mr. Croft bypassed Fredo with little more than a nod of acknowledgment when he entered the Golden Square house. He went looking for Lucy and knew he'd likely find her in the back with her feet propped up on a table, reading smut, not being remotely productive. He shouted for her and left Fredo standing at the door, "Lucy!"

"What do you want? Why are you yelling?" She asked. She actually wasn't sitting and had been doing some tidying up. She greeted him, thinking something was wrong but found him grinning ecstatically.

"It's done, Lucy!" He said excitedly and grabbed her arms.

"What is?" 

"Your mother's pardon, you silly girl! We've done it!" He shook her as he spoke.

"Oh!" She then exclaimed with realization. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him in the next second. "Oh, my God! Thank you!"

"No, thank Lady Isabella for her completely mad idea and thank you for being...you, Lucy Wells!" He hugged her back and picked her up. He was mainly overjoyed about what this bold, outlandish move would do for his career. It would be in the news the next day with his name unabashedly attached. Pardoning an infamous bawd because she acted in defense of her daughter against a nobleman was absolute madness at its finest, but it had happened and people were going to talk. Talk was what he needed more than anything. He needed people to know his name - Lord James Croft. He spun Lucy around once before placing her feet back on solid ground. "I must tell Fredo now!" He said gleefully.

"And I should go tell my M-my sister! Charlotte, my sister." Lucy nearly said she needed to tell her Ma but corrected herself before he noticed. He was far too caught up in his win to notice much of anything. He'd find out soon enough that he didn't pardon a dead woman. People would really know who he was then.

They went together to the front of the house and found Fredo nowhere. "Where on Earth did Fredo go?" Mr. Croft asked. "He was at the door just a moment ago."

"He went upstairs," the other boy told him.

"What do you mean?" He asked although he knew exactly what he meant. He wished he didn't know what he meant and he wanted to be wrong.

"Let's go to St. James's," Lucy said and hooked his arm with hers then pulled him toward the door. He stuttered and no sensible words came out, just something about Parliament. He tried to pull away from her and to go back. He pulled toward the stairs. "You don't want to do that," Lucy said firmly. "You will come back later. Talk to him then. Right now, we go to St. James's to celebrate your victory."

He gave in, nodded, and went out with her. His joyful mood had turned to one of disappointment and hurt in record time. What a sensitive man, Lucy thought. He remained silent for the entire carriage ride, staring at his hands until they arrived when he asked, "How do people do this?"

"Do what?" She asked, legitimately uncertain about what he referred to. "Ride in carriages?"

"Be..." He shook his head, unsatisfied with the word, "Feel things for...anyone? Anyone, really. I didn't mean to imply-"

"You always feel like you need to explain yourself. You always try to explain everything you say. Why?" She asked, completely dodging his entire question.

This threw him off, "I...because I...I want everyone to...to...understand. It's for clarity."

"Not everyone will understand no matter how much you explain. You do realize that, don't you? Not everyone is as smart as me," she elbowed him jokingly, trying to cheer him up. This has quickly become no fun. "No matter how much you explain it, not everyone is going to understand why you worked to pardon a bawd hanged for killing a lord."

"I don't mean..."

"Get out of the carriage and pretend I'm your mistress," she ordered. "You've gotten a pardon for my dead Ma."

He exited and then helped her step down. Arm in arm again they went to the door. "They're going to say I did this for you."

"It's better than them saying you did it for your own lofty ambitions, yes?"

He didn't respond and bent down to pet a cat. He wanted to explain what he'd meant. He wanted to go back to Golden Square and explain to Fredo why he had rushed past.

~~~

"I didn't believe it would be done," Margaret said still in awe an entire day later. "I truly did not think it possible." She felt faint and sat down on the sofa at the opposite side of Charlotte's room. "I thought it so impossible that I don't have anywhere to go now that I'm free of the most comfortable prison in London. You've gone and given my house to Fanny, Charlotte."

"Well, unfortunately, you can't go roaming the streets with abandon just yet," Isabella reminded her. "I don't want it so obvious that I knew you were alive this entire time."

"As soon as all of this is done, we'll go to Scotland or Wales. We'll get out of this damned city for a while - me, you and Jacob," Mr. North suggested. 

"What the hell will we do in Scotland or Wales, Will?" She asked, appalled by the thought. London was all she knew. It's why she came back. She talked and talked about America, but London was and always would be her home.

"You can go start a new bawdy house in the country or something." He sat next to her, "Or boxing. We'll take Jack and organize boxing matches. Maybe both?" He was grinning while he said all of this and it was making Charlotte laugh.

Lucy tried very hard not to look too excited at the prospect of her mother leaving again. She just remained quiet for this conversation. Charlotte shot her a knowing look and continued smiling at their Pa. Lucy kept her mouth tightly closed and covered it with her hand.

Margaret then said, still protesting the idea of abandoning London again, "But I can't leave Charlotte."

"I'm alright, Ma. I'm not going anywhere. I'll probably be here in this bed when you get back."

"No," Isabella said. "I told you already, I will get you a nice invalid carriage. I'll push you to the parlor at least. I need to push you to the market for pie as well...or have someone else push you. I don't know that I will be the one pushing you."

"I look forward to being an invalid as opposed to bedridden," Charlotte laughed in spite of herself. "I also look forward to having a third person with us at all times."

Feeling confusingly overjoyed and sullen at the exact same time, Margaret said, "I never planned for any of this."

"It's fair to say none of us planned for any of this," Mr. North told her.

"I certainly did not," Charlotte pouted. "Go and travel, Ma. Do it for me because I truly am stuck here. You must come back and tell me of all the places you visit."

~~~

Isaac stumbled down the stairs, still feeling the effects of his hearty laudanum dosing still. Margaret gave him more than she gave to Hal. He fumbled with several bottles at the bar until he found the drink he wanted and uncorked it. Hal sauntered over and leaned on the bartop next to him. He watched him drink and said nothing.

After a few moments, Isaac looked at him and asked, "What?"

"It's time to be done with the Wellses and Lady Fitz," he answered.

"Has that whore of yours gotten to you? You were the one that wanted to try blackmail."

"No, you were," he argued.

Isaac glared at him, "No. You suggested it after Lydia Quigley mentioned it and told you of her idea."

They bickered for a while until Emily came over, not being able to figure out who had done what and who the blame was to be lain upon. The last couple of days had become very blurry. Even the events leading up to their entrance into Lady Fitz's home had been muddled by the opium.

She flopped a paper down between them and said nothing, but it silenced them. She waited for them to look at it. Neither of them looked. They continued staring at one another in a standoff of sorts. Emily watched, waited. There was a good bit of chatter in the tavern about it, especially among the girls. A few of the patrons talked about it as well and their opinions varied. Hal had overheard some of the chatter, but the official word didn't happen until Emily brought in the paper. He knew why Emily had tossed the paper down for them. He knew exactly what it was. The rumors were true. What a strange and exciting time to be alive, but also it was time for them to stop playing silly games with these people because they were not to be fucked with.

Hal reached up slowly but did not look at the paper. He placed his hand on it and eased it toward Isaac. Emily continued to watch them. He pushed the paper into Isaac's arm. It began to crumble against his elbow and Hal kept sliding it until it was completely smashed against him. Emily laughed, tossed up her arms, and walked away. Hal had such moments of endearment.

"This is a war we cannot win," Hal said. "We must stop poking this bear. Emily is right. Emily has been right."

"Bah," Isaac grumped and turned to the paper. He flattened it out and looked at it then said, "Hell."

"So that plan is done," Hal confirmed.

"We'll come up with-"

Shaking his head, Hal said, "No, we will not. We will stick to taverns. This is the end of it. This is our tavern. Let's fix it up. Make it the nicest of taverns. Pretty up our girls. Call it a day."

"We've said that before," Isaac rolled his eyes.

"I mean it this time. You fuck it up and I will put you out on your ass."

"I'm your brother," he reminded him.

"I don't care anymore, Isaac."

Emily listened to them at the other end of the bar. She smiled. This pleased her. This bullshit was finally over.

~~~

When Kate returned from her most recent excursion with the Marquess, she sat down exasperatedly in the parlor.

"Kate, are you alright?" Isabella asked, coming over to her quickly.

She nodded, "Yes. Something's changed though."

"What do you mean?" She began to wring her hands together. "Is he suspicious of you? You mustn't go back."

"I don't think so, but he seemed very...distracted."

"By?"

"I don't know. It was as if he were waiting for something or someone that never arrived..." She sighed, "I'm sorry I don't have anything useful for you."

"You may stop, Kate. He's clearly become more cautious with his mistresses. I've sent you into danger for no reason," Isabella said, filled with disappointment, but only with herself and not with Kate at all.

"He's been very kind to me," she told her. "I don't think I'm in danger...at least not yet."

"But I feel more and more horrible for it. I am no better than the likes of Mrs. Quigley, I fear. My need for revenge has outweighed my sensibilities, and you won't even take the money. You're as bad as Charlotte about taking money."

"No, I will continue," Kate insisted. "I will stop when I fear I'm in danger...when he does anything that frightens me in the slightest. When is his fitting at Golden Square again?"

"Next week, but Kate..." Isabella looked at her very sternly, "You may not know you're in danger until it's too late" She touched her cheek and then stood, "If you want to be a harlot, go to Greek Street. You'll be protected there and not at the mercy of my brother. Fanny is kind and Nancy will keep you safe."

"I think he's perturbed by the pardoning of Mrs. Wells like you knew he would be," she said. "I also know he doesn't know where Sophia is. Perhaps he was waiting on word about her?"

"We shouldn't speculate," she commented. "Now, get out of there. I'm sure we have enough without what you're doing. I just thought you may be able to find something incriminating so he could be caught in the act."

"Mrs. Quigley, have you spoken to her? Perhaps if I speak to her about it..."

"Would you like to see her, Kate? You may if you want. She's my captive, but I will allow her to have visitors." Isabella paced.

"No, not yet...I'm not really sure what to say to her now that I think about it." Changing the topic she asked, "Is Sophia still avoiding you as well?"

"Yes, but she's been coming out of her room at least."

"Perhaps," Kate began, "She just doesn't know what to say to you either." 

"I, for one, don't know where to even begin."

Their conversation came to an end when Justice Knox entered the room. He'd come by to speak with Kate, apparently. 

~~~

Isabella knocked on Lydia's door and then unlocked it. Lydia had been extremely quiet. She had not made any demands and her complaints had ceased entirely. Isabella hadn't felt like speaking to her and her attendants assured her she wasn't dead so she left her alone.

"Yes?" Lydia called from within.

Only then did Isabella open the door and step inside. "Mrs. Quigley-"

"Isabella, I want to apologize to you," she said with such abruptness that Isabella's breath caught in her throat.

"I'm not going to let you out for apologizing," she snapped at her.

"I don't expect you to, but I want to help you with our common enemy. It's your brother, isn't it?" She asked.

"Yes."

Lydia waited for Isabella to say something more but she didn't. After the brief pause, she looked away and spoke somewhat sadly to her, "I've always been very good a coming up with excuses for the things that I've done and all I have left is that I did not know. I had no idea."

Isabella looked toward her but did not move closer. She remained firmly planted at the door, "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about your brother."

"Has my greatest secret finally reached you?" Isabella asked her curiously.

"I believe it has and I do have a heart, I assure you. Perhaps it's small and cold, but it remains and is sometimes stirred when I don't expect it."

"I'm not letting you out," she reminded her once more.

"I wouldn't want you to. I am saying I will help you ruin him."

Isabella felt a strange rage growing within her, but she kept it in check. She was angry that Lydia knew, that she appeared to have figured it out or that someone told her. Neither option was pleasing. Her jaw twitched and perhaps it would have been imperceptible to someone less keen than Lydia Quigley. The old woman remained quiet and Isabella eventually spoke, "You want something in return. What?"

"I hadn't come up with that yet. I know what you want from me..." Lydia looked away. "He will take me straight to hell with him. The people will want me burned at the stake for what I've done. What would be the point of making demands of you?"

"You're playing a something," she accused.

"For once, I'm not." She offered no explanation, no reasoning. "I will speak in open court if that's what you want. I will tell of his proclivities and of his demand for sacrifices."

"What is your game?" Isabella asked, still accusingly

She shook her head, "I'm sorry for taking the pleasure of breaking me from you. I don't need to be broken to help you with this task."

Isabella glared, unsure why she was so angry. Was it truly that she wouldn't get to break Lydia in order to bend her to her will? She said flatly, "I will inform the justice."

"Wait," Lydia said abruptly as she reached for the door. "I do have a request." Isabella turned and looked at her with raised eyebrows, waiting for something absurd to spill from her mouth. "Save my son from debtor's jail," Lydia said.

Isabella eyed her, "Honestly?"

"He will squander anything you give him but you can give him another chance at least."

This sounded sincere and so bizarrely unselfish. Isabella nodded. "Is that it?"

"One more thing..." She added. Isabella turned once more, expecting her true intentions to be revealed, whatever confounding nefarious things they were. But she said, "Protect Kate and don't destroy Sophia as I have destroyed all of my children."

"Excuse me?"

"Am I mumbling, Lady Fitz?" Lydia said to her snidely.


	25. Chapter 25

No one believed Mrs. Quigley wasn't planning something - with the exception of Kate, who had never truly experienced any of her trickery. Lady Isabella herself remained on the fence. The fact that Lydia had offered her help before she'd made any attempt to ask for it made her wary. Nancy adamantly believed Lydia would somehow turn the whole thing against them all, ruin them all. Margaret agreed although she wasn't sure how it would occur - lying under oath, she suspected. Lydia had no qualms about lying in front of the court. Isabella wanted to believe they could come together momentarily for a shared cause, although the shared cause would destroy Lydia just as much as it would her brother. 

"I simply don't believe she can change," said Charlotte. "She surely has her own motives and her own plan that none of us can see clearly because none of us are as foul as her."

"She seemed sincere," said Isabella, her anger had subsided. When she said this everyone looked at her in shock. Nancy shook her head.

"Have you forgotten that most everyone in this room made a living pretending to be sincere?" Charlotte asked her. "It isn't that hard to fake sincerity, my love."

She groaned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"I didn't intend for her to leave," Charlotte mumbled. She looked at her Ma, "I want to talk to Lydia. I want to hear of the selfless offer from the demon's own mouth. I'll be able to tell if she'd sincere or not."

Nancy crossed her arms, "Several of Isabella's people have a key-"

"No, I don't mean to sneak her out. Why must everything we do involve sneaking and plots? I mean for one of you to get Isabella. She's likely pacing the corridor."

"It may be easier to break her out," Margaret said under her breath.

"No," Charlotte said again and then looked at Nancy, "Will you go fetch her, please?"

Nancy gave her a nod and returned a few minutes later with Lady Isabella, who said nothing and waited for Charlotte to make whatever request it was she had of her.

"Let me speak to Mrs. Quigley," Charlotte said simply, not asking nor demanding it.

Isabella looked at her and sighed, "Now?"

"Yes."

She nodded again and left the room once more.

"That was easy," Nancy observed.

"I told you. There's no need for sneaking about. This entire honesty bit is sometimes rather effective." Charlotte sat up and began adjusting her pillows. "Now leave, both of you. I want to speak with her alone and I don't trust either of you to act like civilized humans."

Nancy feigned being taken aback and she led Mrs. Wells out.

Upstairs, Isabella opened Lydia's door and stepped inside. She said, "Someone wants to see you."

"Kate?" Lydia asked her hopefully.

"No. Charlotte," she corrected her.

"Oh." This surprised Lydia and she then asked, "And I suspect you've given in to her request?"

"Of course I have. Now, come on before I change my mind." She motioned for the door and added, "And don't try to run. You won't get far, I assure you."

"I have no intention of running, Lady Fitz," she said and stood. "I'm finished running."

"Very well," Isabella motioned toward the door again and stepped aside. Mrs. Quigley did not attempt to run. They passed by Nancy and Mrs. Wells, who both stood with their arms crossed, watching her closely. She didn't even look at them and she let Isabella lead the way to Charlotte's room.

"Leave us," Charlotte said to Isabella.

Mrs. Quigley looked at each of the women. Isabella then slipped out and shut the door. As soon as the door was closed, she said softly, "Oh, Charlotte."

"Don't, Lydia. I don't want any feigned sympathy from you."

"It isn't feigned." She came closer, looking at her, disheartened. "I'm very sorry for what happened to you."

"I don't want sympathy at all really, feigned or not." Charlotte ignored her apology entirely. "I want to know what you're planning. You've repeatedly threatened Isabella with Bedlam, you-"

"Charlotte Wells," Lydia interrupted firmly and then sat down in the chair by the bed. "Perhaps I've turned a new leaf."

"Perhaps not," she said back. 

"It's very frustrating not being believed, but I know that I've brought it on myself?"

"It is, you have," Charlotte agreed with her.

They studied one another quietly for a time. Charlotte looked at Lydia with distrust and Lydia looked at Charlotte with what appeared to be compassion - compassion that she didn't know what exactly to do with. Charlotte's brow furrowed as Lydia spoke up again, "I should not have left you that night. You truly were like a daughter to me, but I am...unfit."

"Kate seems to think you do possess some level of humanity."

"Do you speak to her often?" Lydia then asked. "Does she talk of me?"

Charlotte nodded, "I like Kate and she does talk about you. She worries and she defends you against my mother and Nancy."

"And you too?"

"And me," she admitted. "I experienced what a monster you are firsthand. You wanted to make me into a monster in your likeness."

"You never would have been a monster in my likeness. You see wounds and instead of prodding at them, you want to repair them. I both love and hate you for it."

Charlotte studied her again and thought on her words. She hated that this seemed to be true. She hated that Lydia did seem to know her. She responded, "Do you think that makes me weak or foolish?"

Lydia shook her head. "It means little, I know, but I am sorry, Charlotte. I think it was seeing you...lying there in the foyer. I feared you would die thinking I did not love you when I did, and it was all my own fault. You hurt me, and so I had wanted to hurt you...because I...I suppose because I am a monster, as you said."

Charlotte eyed her and then spoke, "We are all monsters of varying degrees."

Lydia poured herself a drink from the wine on the table next to her, "You may be right. It's time for some of the monsters to be brought low now."

"Are you referring to the Marquess?"

"I am. Had I known..." She paused to drink from her glass and then went on, "Had I known what he did to Lady Fitz, I..." Lydia seemed at a loss for words, a very rare event indeed. "I have more in common with your Isabella than I imagined, and I would not have-"

Charlotte somewhat angered said defensively, "Don't pretend to be offended by rape when you profited from it for years. Do not pretend you would have done anything differently. You just would have had more to blackmail her for, more to torment her with."

Lydia's head fell, "Believe what you will about the past. It's pointless to try to convince you otherwise, I know. Listen to me now though, Charlotte, as I have no evil plot. I know that's why you wanted to see me. You want to know if I plan to ruin your lover instead of her repulsive brother. I do not. I admire her in some way...she never let him break her as I let people break me. If I have to go down right along with that ass then so be it. This will be my reckoning as well. I suspect this will not be enough atonement in your eyes for all of the atrocities I've committed and been privy to, but...it's all I have left. I've lost and if it's time for me to go down I want to take him with me."

Again, Charlotte looked at her very carefully. Lydia swirled her wine and seemed mesmerized by it. Something had changed in her, Charlotte thought. She couldn't put her finger on what was different, but she believed her. Perhaps being bedridden had made her soft but she cared for the woman a bit. She'd glimpsed fleeting moments in which Lydia was not a demon, "Pour me a drink and I will present you with a plot since you don't have one."

"A plot?" Mrs. Quigley asked, her eyes lighting up.

"You don't necessarily need to go down with the Marquess," she motioned for her glass.

The old woman's mouth curled into a mischievous smile, "Charlotte Wells."

"Lydia Quigley," she said to her in the same tone and took the glass as she passed it to her.

~~~

"You've lost your mind since your fall, haven't you, Charlotte?" Margaret said to her, appalled. "You hit your head and it was worse than we believed."

"God's sake, Ma," she grumbled and shifted around in the bed. "You make my leg hurt with your shrill nagging."

Isabella sided with Charlotte, "She didn't even try to run. I think she's given up."

They talked of Mrs. Quigley, of course - the hottest topic of the day. Charlotte added, "Bedlam did something to her. She's after some sort of absolution, I think."

"I can't believe she's fooled you as well," Nancy commented, siding firmly with Mrs. Wells.

"You're normally the voice of reason," Charlotte snapped. "But you cannot have reason when it comes to Mrs. Quigley, can you?"

She conceded, "I cannot."

"If she betrays us somehow then so be it. Let us all be hanged for our crimes then," Charlotte said to them harshly. "We all deserve to hang for one thing or another, do we not?"

Nancy started, "Isabella, hasn't-"

"I'm holding an old woman in a room upstairs, I'm part-owner of a molly house, and I believe I may be Kate's bawd in some roundabout manner, remember?" Isabella laughed a little at this in spite of herself and the tension in the room.

"See," Charlotte pointed out. "I think Quigley is on our side this time."

"I find it hard to believe that she is on any side that will result in her complete downfall, but the only way he goes down is with her," Margaret reminded them. "She's survived this long by doing just the opposite of that."

"Well, let's take a gamble then," said Charlotte.

"You're rubbish at gambling sometimes," Nancy mumbled then looked at Lady Fitz and said, "As are you. I guess it's no wonder you're betting on what is most likely a losing hand."

Kate entered then and recoiled a bit, saying politely, "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting."

"You're not. We're just arguing about your adopted Ma again," Charlotte told her. "Join us."

She rolled her eyes, "The lot of you need to find something else to talk about."

"I agree," Charlotte said, "But first, I want to have a word with you in private since you're here."

"You're having a lot of private chats today," Nancy grumbled and left. Margaret followed, and Isabella lingered for a moment before leaving as well.

Charlotte waited for the door to shut and then said to Kate, "Make sure none of them are listening."

"Alright..." Kate did as she was told and then looked at Charlotte suspiciously, "What's happening?"

"I have a plan," she said quietly. "It's an alternate plan to Isabella's. Mrs. Quigley has agreed, but you are also involved. You need to speak with her, and you need to carry on with Isabella's plan, but what you're really going to be doing is my plan."

"What? There are now two separate plans?" Kate's brow furrowed deeply. "And I'm feeling as if no one knows about your plan?"

"Correct, on both accounts." She smiled innocently, "My plan is better though."

"Charlotte, are you drunk?" She asked as she moved closer to her maintaining the same baffled expression.

"Perhaps. Mrs. Quigley will tell you the finer points, but I need you to bring me my sister from Golden Square first thing tomorrow."

Kate questioned, "Is she involved in this superior plot of yours as well?"

"She's about to be. It's vital that my plan remains very secret, do you understand?"

Sitting down, Kate then asked, "Why exactly should I go along with your idea over Isabella's?"

Charlotte sighed, ", Kate, do you want to save Mrs. Quigley?"

"I'd rather her not be hanged in all of this, that's true. I was unaware you also wanted to save her."

"I didn't know I wanted to either until the moment I did." Charlotte then looked at her seriously, "What I want most of all though, is to free Isabella once and for all. My plan will do that. I fear that hers will not. I fear that the Marquess has too many connections and that we will all end up on the street or in Bedlam. She would die in Bedlam and I will die without her."

"You think that even with Mrs. Quigley's testimony and Emily's and..." Her eyes narrowed. "Do you mean to kill him?"

"Well, obviously, I don't mean to kill him. I can't walk," Charlotte joked.

"Do you mean for me to kill him?" Kate gasped a bit.

"No," Charlotte was taken aback. "No. No. No. Just go talk with Mrs. Quigley, and bring Lucy here tomorrow...unless you've gotten attached to him or something."

It was Kate's turn to be taken aback, "God, no. He's a weasel. He's been endlessly pleasant to me, but I can tell there's this...darkness underneath. It's as if he's waiting for something, but I don't know what."

"Justice Knox is fond of you, by the way...if you didn't know," Charlotte told her.

"I'm aware."

"Does he truly think the words of a bunch of harlots will sway all of the men of the court that the Marquess has in his pocket? Some of them are members of his little murder club, I'm sure." Charlotte spoke grimly, "We won't win by taking the high road."

"You might be right," Kate acquiesced to her.

"But Knox. Does he realize the extent of Blayne's grasp?"

"I can make him realize..."

"Good," Charlotte nodded. "Now tell Isabella you want to see Mrs. Quigley."

~~~

Lucy arrived and Charlotte ushered everyone from her room saying, "I don't need to be watched every moment of every day. I'm not in danger of dying of a brain bleed anymore."

Isabella and Margaret filed out. Margaret threw her hands in the air and said, "Maybe I'll just leave for Wales now!"

Charlotte and Lucy laughed for a moment before Lucy came over to the bedside and asked, "What do you need?"

"I need you to help me foil Isabella's plan to have her brother arrested when he arrives for his jacket fitting." Lucy opened her mouth to ask her to repeat herself, but then she closed it tightly, and just looked at Charlotte instead. Charlotte then said, "You look angry. Don't be angry. I have an alternate solution and mine is more...permanent."

"How do you propose I do this? The trap is laid."

"You're not going to ask me why?" Charlotte laughed.

Lucy's expression softened and she said, "You're obviously planning to kill him. I know why, but what I don't know is how you plan to pull it off."

"Reschedule his fitting," she answered flatly. "Ensure that he isn't there on the day he's supposed to be. I don't care how."

Lucy burst out laughing and finally said, "Go on, Charlotte. Tell me more."

"That's it. That's your part."

"Who gets to kill him then?" She asked, still laughing a little.

Charlotte couldn't tell if she was laughing at her or laughing because she was amused, "I can't tell you. If this goes belly-up, I don't want us all to take the fall."

"You're serious?"

"Very. Just ensure he doesn't show up and the rest will unfold."

Lucy sighed, "I was hoping I'd get to kill him."

Charlotte looked up at her, "Are you serious?"

"Maybe," she answered. "Isabella knows none of this, I take it."

"No, and we need to keep it that way for now."

"Will she be upset, you think?" Lucy asked her curiously.

"No. I just want her to have no part in this should it go wrong."

Lucy chuckled, "But you're alright with me being involved?"

"Well, let's make sure nothing goes wrong then."

~~~

"You are having an awful lot of private chats lately," Isabella propped herself up on her elbow as she lay in bed next to Charlotte later that afternoon. "I'm beginning to think you're up to something, but I don't know what."

Charlotte looked at her, "I'm not."

"I can tell when you're lying," Isabella said.

"Can you now?" Charlotte smiled. "Perhaps I'm trying to plan a surprise for you. It just difficult to do from a bed in your house." This was not a lie.

"Planning a surprise for me with Mrs. Quigley?" Isabella laughed.

"No, that was unrelated," she did lie then, but before Isabella could say anything more she leaned over and kissed her, hoping to make her forget about it for the time being.


	26. Chapter 26

Sophia unlocked the door to Lydia's room and slipped inside then closed it quietly behind her, startling Lydia when the latched clicked into place. Lydia sat at the dressing table and had been staring at her wig, thinking about her other wigs, better wigs with pink highlights that were exceptionally high and curled around her face. She looked up, "Sophia, what are you doing in here? I'm sure this is not allowed."

"I wanted someone to talk to," the girl confessed and sat on the sofa across from her.

"Your home is full of people all of whom are more suitable for you to talk to than me, child."

"I disagree," Sophia said, glumly.

"Oh, you mean you are still angry with your mother and you don't wish to talk to her friends," Mrs. Quigley assessed astutely.

She confessed again, "Yes. She's made no effort to speak to me. She makes sure I'm fed, but she barely looks at me. Everyone else treats me as if I'm made of glass."

"Even Charlotte? I've never known her to treat anything as glass, not even glass."

"I haven't spoken with her much. I don't think she cares for me and my mother is always with her," the young girl said, being rather pouty about it.

"I think you are thinking too much about what other people think," Lydia told her with a smile. "And you're likely wrong about all of it. What do you know of people? How old are you? Twelve?"

"I know very little, I suppose, especially after the mishap with the footman that I don't want to speak of," she sighed dejectedly and sank into the cushions. Referring to Isabella again, she said, "She won't let me out of the house."

"And she won't let me out of this room. At least you have run of the house."

"I can't believe she's keeping you in here like some sort of animal."

Lydia shrugged nonchalantly, "She plans to have me hanged, you know, or whatever it is they decide to do with me when I confess all of my crimes." Sophia, appalled by this, covered her mouth, which only made Lydia laugh, "Oh, no need for dramatics, girl. My luck ran out a long time ago when I was thrown into Bedlam or maybe before that and I didn't realize."

"What crimes have you committed greater than the rest of the bawds and harlots she cavorts with?" Sophia demanded to know.

"Did you not learn your lesson prying after the identity of your father? The truth is not something anyone ever actually wants."

"That's what Charlotte said," she frowned.

"Charlotte is very...many things," Lydia let out a little chuckle and stifled it with her hand. She thought of Charlotte laid up in the bed of this house and the strange series of events leading up to it. The poor girl on the sofa was having some sort of emotional crisis, clearly felt some sort of misplaced fondness for her, and here she was laughing as she thought of Charlotte and her broken legs. She composed herself as best as she could, "You seem a smart girl, sweet, kind..." She thought of how she could've made a fine Vestal virgin and how she could have shaped her into a fine, elegant harlot, fit for kings. She was like Kate with all sorts of virtues and ideals, and she was lost and motherless - at least she thought of herself as motherless. The strange feeling stirred in Lydia, the desire to take the girl under her wing and protect her. Protect her like she had Kate, but now Kate was in grave danger. She feared that Blayne's wrath would be released on her for one reason or another before they could stop him. She hated that she was frequenting his home, lying with him, pretending to be a dumb little fawn, but trying to be some type of hero sucked into this ridiculous vortex.

"Mrs. Quigley, are you alright?" Sophia had crossed the room and placed a hand on her shoulder, "It was as if you drifted off. You began muttering and staring."

"That's been happening lately," she confessed at last and not to anyone she thought she would confess to. She did not expect a visit from Little Fitz. "I've been getting lost in my thoughts or something of the like. It's quite bothersome, but harmless, I believe."

Sophia nodded and remained by the woman's side, "Kate mentioned it."

"My darling Kate," she said with great reverence.

"I like Kate. She isn't here much, but as far as the friends of my mother go, I suppose I like her. And I like Cherry. I'm not sure she even is a friend of my mother."

Lydia laughed a little, "Would you be upset if I told you I was a friend of your mother?"

"Why would she be keeping you locked in a room then and knowing you'll be hanged?"

"I said that I'm her friend, not that she's mine," she smirked. "I care for her somewhat after all of these years."

"You care for Charlotte as well, Kate said so."

She nodded and then laughed again slightly, "I do. I'm glad she's found someone who will put up with her. She is a stubborn, arrogant cunt with a big heart." She became serious again, "You should talk to her, not me. She doesn't dislike you. She dislikes that you hurt your mother, who you should talk to as well."

"I think on it," she said quietly and then started to leave the room. Before she shut the door and locked it, she poked her head back in and said, "Thank you, Mrs. Quigley."

Lydia watched the door close and listened to the click of the lock. She wondered if anyone had ever sincerely thanked her before. She had been thanked by girls as she was pulling the fleece over their eyes and thanked sarcastically, but she couldn't remember a time she had been sincerely thanked for anything genuine. Was her advice genuine? It was hard even for her to tell anymore. 

~~~

At Blayne's estate early the next morning, Kate lounged in bed. Harcourt was pacing outside of the room and had woken her up thumping around. He kept rapping his knuckles in a rhythmless pattern on the wall. She called out to him, "What are you doing? Come back to bed."

"I cannot!" He shouted from somewhere down the hall.

"Tell me what's wrong! Perhaps I can help!" She shouted back.

His footsteps became louder. He stomped back to the room and the door opened slowly. He stood in the entrance, bracing his arms on either side of the door frame, his hair all awry and still in his nightgown. He looked like a wildman in silk and he gazed at her coldly, "You believe you can help me?"

"Perhaps. If you would tell me what has you stomping down the halls before dawn, I would certainly love to help."

He still looked at her from the doorway and she couldn't tell if he believed her or not. He took a step closer. His presence was looming and ominous. She didn't flinch. He asked her, "How could you possibly help?"

"I don't know if you don't tell me what's the matter," she said as sweetly as she could muster. She didn't normally dare question him or show anything other than submissiveness.

He was somehow menacing in a nightgown as he said, "My poor, mad sister is a constant source of torment."

"What has your poor, mad sister done? I thought she was keeping to herself at St. James' with her crippled harlot." She said with feigned curiosity. She couldn't tell if he knew she was working with Lady Isabella or not. She couldn't read him at all except that he was upset and angry. They had been very careful throughout this endeavor, making it appear that she was staying at Saracen's Head. Emily Lacey had become involved and was accepting letters for her and Mrs. Quigley there, making out like they were still in the same room upstairs that they had stayed in previously.

"She has a little bastard daughter, my niece, and she's lost her."

"You care about her? Your niece?" She asked and acted surprised.

He took a step closer and the darkness that boiled beneath all of his politeness flared up a bit, "Obviously. She's an innocent creature and she's been poisoned by my sister's scandal."

"What if I could help you find her?" Kate said hopefully. She knew exactly who he spoke of and exactly where she was and he was falling exactly into Isabella's trap and Charlotte's trap. They were both really much the same trap but with different, messy endings.

"There's no finding her. I have been intercepting every letter sent to my sister and the letters from my niece have stopped entirely. Abruptly. And it seems my sister has no idea where she is either as she is still desperately sending letters and having her army of whores and vagabonds scour the streets. She's even gotten lords on the outskirts of London looking for her, as have I. The girl is gone, likely dead. She was a delicate little thing, she wouldn't survive without someone looking after her." At once, the darkness in him faded, and he seemed genuinely concerned. There was worry in his voice. He put the correct face on that he realized had slipped away as he paced the hall.

"Perhaps I cannot help then..." She sighed, "But perhaps I can take your mind off of it if you come back to bed?"

"You vixen," he growled and rejoined her in the wrinkled blankets.

~~~

Charlotte's nurse prodded at her legs as she groaned out various profanities the entire time. "The left leg is ready to be free of the fracture box," the woman said, "And I believe we can change the splints of the right leg such that the knee will be able to bend slightly and this will allow-"

Before she finished, Charlotte cried out, "Oh, praise God, I will be free of the fucking box at last."

The woman glowered at her, but then smiled slightly. Charlotte believed she had grown on her over the last few weeks but she was a very dour woman that was only excited by doing new things to her legs. "Actually, I want to put your right leg in a box, but I need to get a different one. What we will do," she went on. "Is elevate the lower part of your leg just slightly," she pointed. "This will speed the healing."

Charlotte sighed melodramatically, "I'm so bored of just lying here in this bed and not being able to move my legs."

"This is what happens when you manage to break both of your legs, Miss Wells," the woman told her in a motherly tone.

"You won't have to break my leg again to change the splints though?"

"No," she said and looked closely at her right thigh for a moment before briskly pulling down her chemise. "We just need to change the apparatus. I think everything is relatively where it's supposed to be and we cannot do better than what we've done."

"I love when you call the beastly thing on my leg an apparatus. It's so intimate," Charlotte grumbled.

"We'll do it tomorrow," her tone lightened dramatically with the prospect of a change in Charlotte's condition - or more likely, something new for her to do to Charlotte. In spite of her often gruff demeanor, the woman very delicately removed Charlotte's left leg from the fracture box and tucked the contraption under her arm. "I will also be coming every morning to help you with your left leg so it does not atrophy. You must use those muscles again now."

"Oh, joy," she said sardonically, but she really was a little excited by the prospect of at least being able to move one leg around. She then asked everyone's least favorite question, "Will I walk again?" She hadn't asked in a while, but she knew Isabella talked to the doctor about it in the hallway after each of his visits.

"Stubborn as you are? Probably. Will it hurt? Constantly. Whether you need a leg brace, crutches or a cane for the rest of your life...we'll see."

This answer was somewhat optimistic and Charlotte then said cheerfully, "I hope you have fun changing my apparatus tomorrow."

"I will, and I hope her ladyship is with you tomorrow," the nurse said before slipping out. She left the door open. The hallway was quiet.

Charlotte cringed, hating that the nurse noticed that her crowd of admirers had dissipated. She wasn't even sure where Isabella was. She yanked her blanket over her legs, not wanting to see them and then she flopped back onto the pillows and looked at the ceiling. 

After a while, she heard a light knock. She raised her head only enough to see who it was and saw Sophia standing in the doorway shyly. She said, "Finally, a visitor. Though not anyone I expected."

"Everyone has gone out. I've sent for tea...if you would like tea..." She said apprehensively as she entered the room and sat down.

"Thank you, tea would be nice," she said pleasantly before asking, "Where's everyone gone?"

"I'm not sure. They don't tell me anything, you know."

"They've also forgotten to tell me this time." Charlotte thought for a moment, "Even my Ma went out?"

She nodded, "She and your Pa left with my mother. Jacob went to Harriett's for the day."

"Well, then," she pondered, wondering what they could all be up to together. It was certainly nothing good. "It's just me, you and the servants then?"

"And Mrs. Quigley."

"I would suggest we get out the good liquor and throw a wild party while all of our parents are away but I can't get up," she joked. She was growing bored with her own jokes about her legs finally. This ordeal was dragging on forever. She knew it would be months, but she hadn't realized quite how long "months" was until several had ticked by. "We can release Quigley - that would be exciting."

"I don't like parties," Sophia told her as an attendant brought in tea on a large platter.

Charlotte groaned and sat up, her legs aching, but the pain had become tolerable. The nurse hadn't done much to her today and she suspected tomorrow would be far worse. She did her customary arranging of her pillows so she could sit up straight and relatively comfortably. "You don't like parties?"

"I haven't been to many, but all of the engagements my mother took me to...people just stared at me or at least I felt like they were."

Charlotte cocked her head to the side and took the cup and saucer offered to her by Sophia. "I like when people stare at me at parties."

"Everyone knew I was a bastard..."

"Everyone knew I was a whore," she shrugged. 

"How are you so confident?"

"There's no reason not to be, is there?" Charlotte answered her question with a question.

Sophia thought on it for several moments, "I don't suppose there is."

Charlotte gave her a shrug instead of the definitive answer she obviously wanted. Charlotte only gave people what they wanted when they were paying her, even if they were her lover's daughter. The line had to be drawn somewhere afterall. She let Sophia look at her, sipping her tea, waiting for something more that she would never get. She imagined that some would think she was being cruel to the girl but she wasn't, not really. She was being realistic. Life was full of disappointment and she needed the get used to it sooner rather than later. 

"How though?" Sophia asked her again.

"Pretend, love. Life is all a long game of pretend."

"That's God damn depressing, Charlotte," she responded suddenly.

Charlotte looked at her, taken a bit aback, "Well, yes."

Sophia then asked, "Do you know who told me to talk to you?"

"No," Charlotte answered confusedly.

"Mrs. Quigley."

"That's...odd," Charlotte stated and sipped her own tea. "And that's why you're here...having this pain conversation with me?"

"It's not all that painful."

"What all did she tell you?" Charlotte's eyes narrowed and she sat her teacup on the table.

Sophia said, "Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

Charlotte's brow furrowed, "So you're here talking to me because Mrs. Quigley told you to talk to me because...why?"

"Because I want someone to talk to," she said quickly and seemingly ashamed of this. She looked down and stopped drinking her tea, losing all of her previous composure all at once.

"Sophia," Charlotte began and then pointed somewhat absently to the bottle of rum nearby, "Put that into my tea, will you?"

She cringed but nodded and did so. She said nothing until Charlotte sipped the concoction. She cringed again and said, "I'm bored."

"Add some rum to your tea then," Charlotte laughed. She corrected quickly, "Please, actually don't though. Your Ma would be highly disappointed in me if I encouraged such early alcoholism. It's what my Ma would've said though."

"God...I just...Mrs. Wells..."

"She's a lot," Charlotte smiled. "She means very well. I know this now. I think I always knew it but it gets a bit hard to see when she's auctioning you off and such."

"You are awful at motivational speeches," Sophia told her.

She laughed again, "Some would argue with that, but...I mean," she shrugged. "I'm not everyone cup of tea." She then raised her teacup in a slight toast. "I'm rather bored as well if we're here sharing our feelings."

"Do you want to play a game?" Sophia asked sincerely.

"I hope it's not some sort of fucking question game," was Charlotte's response.

"It's not...it's...it's..." Sophia stammered, "I heard you liked to play cards."

"Only if there's money involved," Charlotte laughed.

Sophia answered her quickly, "I have jewelry and things."

"We'll have to do a bunch of IOUs but let's play," Charlotte encouraged. "I'm also alright with playing for secrets. Secrets are more valuable than money these days, I think."

"Fair," Sophia agreed.


End file.
